Passengers
by Harriet Vane
Summary: Serenity is commissioned to transport Alliance big-wigs: prompting Mal to once more wonder “Why doesn’t it ever go smooth?”
1. The Alliance definition of ‘choice’

Author's Note:  Just so ya'll know, this takes place before Ariel.  There will be Chinese translations at the very end.  And all the Greek stuff was reviewed and approved by a leading classics scholar.  At least, the best classics scholar I know.  Ok, the only classics scholar I know, but hey, how many of you know a classics scholar at all?

**Passengers**

"Passengers?" Simon asked nervously.

"'Course," Kaylee said, smiling at the young man. "Don' you remember how you first came on?"

"I remember all to well," Simon said, taking a deep breath of the planet's air. It was hot and heavy and smelled like a host of unsavory things: engine exhaust, human body odor, and other things the doctor didn't want to contemplate. "I thought after such a nightmare Mal would avoid passengers."

"Well, fares is usually pretty good money," Kaylee said, setting up her lawn chair. "Plus now we can charge more on account'a you."

"Me?" Simon said. "What, the thrill of traveling with a wanted fugitive drives up the price?"

Kaylee laughed, "Naw, but havin' a good medic do. There's all sorts a hypochondriacs out there won't travel ta the next town, not ta mention the next moon, without knowin' there's a doctor near ta take care a them." 

 "Ah," Simon said nodding. "Well, I suppose . . ." His voice suddenly trailed off as he noticed something in the distance. "You know, I think I should probably go, ah, inside."

Kaylee followed his gaze to see a small Alliance patrol, two grunts and an officer accompanied by a well-dressed woman. They seemed to be examining each of the ship's specs, and talking very briefly to whomever was sitting outside of this ship soliciting passengers. They were about five ships' away, working towards Serenity with typical Alliance efficiency. 

"I think they've already seen ya," Kaylee said. Her own stomach was starting to twist into a knot, she was sure Simon was much worse off. "Probably be best fer you ta just sit tight and smile when they walk by."

"What if they're looking for us?" Simon said very softly. The patrol was only four ships away now. 

"Then they found ya," Kaylee said, just as softly. "If you run they'll follow."

"If we don't run she'll be sent back and I'll . . ."

"But," Kaylee insisted, "If they ain't lookin' fer you, seein' the ship medic lookin' all timid 'n panicky might just make 'um suspicious."

The patrol was three ships away.

"Kaylee, I can't . . ."

"Ya ain't gotta lie," Kaylee said. "Ya just gotta make em believe the truth."

"Which is?"

"That you're this ships medic an' there ain't no place you'd rather be than _Serenity."_

Simon was somewhat surprised to realize that that was indeed the truth, and that he'd have no problem telling that to the Alliance patrol if they asked. All the same, he prayed they didn't ask.

"Huh," Kaylee said, "They skipped that Fant class transport."

They had indeed skipped one of the larger, newer looking ships in the row. They were now one ship closer to Serenity.

"Why would they skip that one?" Simon asked.

"I'da know," Kaylee admitted. "Guess it weren't what they were lookin' fer."

"What do you think they are looking for?"

"I'da know that neither," Kaylee said as the patrol turned away from the Pecker class ship docked next to Serenity and were finally turning their attention to the Firefly's many qualities.

"Can I help you fellas?" Kaylee asked kindly, not getting up from her warn folding chair.

The officer turned to Kaylee and offered her an official smile. "How many passengers can you accommodate?"

"We got room fer nine," Kaylee said. "Course if ya need more, we could have the crew double up. Anythin' fer the Alliance."

Simon glanced at Kaylee bewildered by her openness; he wondered if she'd forgotten they crew of Serenity was, with hardly an exception, criminal.

"How very refreshing," the officer said, taking a step towards the young girl and the ship. "But your friend here doesn't seem to agree." The officer, who had a clean shaven, pale, nondescript face, set his official gaze on Simon. 

"He's just bashful," Kaylee said, whapping the doctor affectionately, trying to start him out of his terror. "Say hi to the nice Alliance man, Simon."

"Hi," Simon said, his throat was suddenly so dry he could barely speak.

"Do either of you own this ship?"

"Naw," Kaylee said, "This here ship is owned by Captain Malcolm Reynolds. I'm Kaylee, the mechanic and this here is Simon, ship's medic."

"Captain Reynolds has a very young crew," the officer observed.

Kaylee wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, "We are what we are," she said with a chuckle.

"If I told you I needed room for ten passengers, what would you do?"

"Like I said, some a us would double up."

"Who?  Do you have a protocol?"

"Protocol?"

"Captain Reynolds isn't really one for protocols," Simon observed. 

"So you don't know what would happen."

"I'm sure somethin' . . ." Kaylee said, grasping a little.

"We need an answer Miss Kaylee."

"I, ah, I guess I kin see if . . ."

"I'd sleep in the infirmary," Simon said quickly. "I fall asleep there half the time anyways, someone could have my room."

Kaylee looked up and smiled at him. Seem open, seem willing to bend over backward, that's what governments expected; it's what they liked, what kept them from suspecting you of anything too nefarious. At least, in theory. 

"I want to see the inside," the woman said. Her voice was high-pitched, thin, with a tone of aristocracy. She had very light blond hair, pulled tightly back in a stylized bun, and a thin, shallow face accented with extravagant yet tasteful make up.  She was probably in her late thirty's but she had the bearing of a woman twice her age.  She reminded Simon very much of his grandmother's friends, the kind that would criticize him as a young boy if his tie was not straight or his hair was not properly parted. In a more-or-less pavlovian response to her presence, the palms of Simon's hands started to sweat.

"We require a tour of your ship," the Alliance officer said curtly.

"A tour?" Kaylee said, her voice squeaking just a little as she turned to look nervously at Simon. "We don' usually give tours."

The officer sighed, "That was not a request."

"Well," Simon said, trying and failing not to sound nervous. "Then I guess we should give you a tour."

"Is there any reason you wouldn't want us to look in your ship?" the officer said suspiciously.

"Naw," Kaylee kept her voice light, her smile beaming. "It's jus' I'm not quite comfortable givin' a tour without the cap'in, ya know. I's his ship."

"I feel it's important that we tour it now," the officer said. The two grunts moved forward just enough to remind Serenity's youngest crew members that they were there, and they were armed, and they were going to get things their way.

"Kaylee," Simon said, not taking his eyes off the guns. "I think maybe I should get Wash. After all, he's been on the ship longer than either of us. He has seniority."

"Wash?" the officer said, looking suspicious.

"Tha's a great idea Simon," Kaylee said, feeling very relieved. Turning back to the officer she explained, "He's ship's pilot, married ta the first mate. He's been with Serenity ever since she's been flyin'." Kaylee turned back to Simon. "Why don't you go an' send Wash out here. Then you can get that thing ya need and I'll meet ya round back fer the little day trip we were plannin'." 

Simon stared at her for a second before nodding, "That is a very, very good idea. I'll, ah, I'll go and, and meet you." He turned to the alliance patrol. "Sirs, Ma'am," he said, bowing slightly, before turning quickly and jogging in his awkward way up the hatch. 

Kaylee watched him, smiling blatantly. He'd done so well, she thought. Yes, he'd been a little slow on the uptake, and he'd been very, very stiff, but he hadn't done or said anything stupid. There was hope for the _zheng__ pai doctor. When she turned back to the Alliance officers, she could tell that they didn't suspect a thing. After all, what was suspicious about two very young crewmembers being afraid of doing something without their captain's approval? And what was more likely then the same crew members wanting to get off the ship and explore the city? She was extremely proud of how very probable, and really, how true, their lie had been._

"Are you two lovers?" the aristocratic woman asked so bluntly that Kaylee felt like she'd been punched.

"_Me me m**[i]?" Kaylee gasped.**_

"The question is fairly self-explanatory," the officer said. "I suggest you answer it."

"Why da ya need ta know?" Kaylee said. "I mean, what do it matter?"

"Why won't you answer the question?" the officer said.

"We're good friends," Kaylee finally said cautiously. "An' mor'in that I can't really say."

"I see," the aristocratic woman said dryly. 

"Hey there little Kaylee," Wash called from inside the cargo bay. "Doc tells me that someone needs a tour."

"Hey there, Wash!" Kaylee said, relief flooding her voice. "Yeah, these here Alliance folk would like ta take a look 'round Serenity. I was hopin' you could show 'em."

"Ah, sure," Wash said, smiling falsely at the Alliance patrol and the woman as he meandered down the hatch. "Right, around."

"Thanks Wash, me 'n Simon are gonna go see the town, then, while ya do this."

"The town," Wash said, still looking at the Alliance patrol. "Yeah, right, you two wacky kids have a great time."

"Thanks," Kaylee said. She turned to the Alliance patrol and smiled at them. "Hope y'all have a nice tour."

"I'm sure it will be adequate." The officer said dryly. 

Kaylee nodded before turning and scampering around to the other side of Serenity where, she prayed to God, Simon and River would be waiting. 

* * *

"What I see you not comprehending, Captain Reynolds, is that you can not refuse."

"Is this the great freedom you Alliance boys are protecting?" Mal said tersely. "'Cause if it is I'm thinkin' some one needs to buy this government a dictionary."

"Witty," the lieutenant said dryly.

"Really think so?" Mal said, lightly. "'Cause no one on my ship laughs at my jokes. Bein' the captain and all you'd think they'd fall over backwards to flatter me, but no, all this wit seems lost on them."

"How very tragic for you."

"I'n it though?" Mal sighed, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. "Ya know, sometimes I think I'm just life's punching bag."

"Perhaps you are," the Alliance lieutenant said with a perfectly straight face, as he'd said everything else in their 'negotiation.' Mal was starting to wonder if this man could even make an expression. "Perhaps that's why your ship was selected to transport the Kubats."

"I'm just wonerin' why one a your pretty new ships couldn'a taken the family to New Dallas. Don't get me wrong, I love Serenity, but she ain't exactly the kinda accommodations a Prefect's wife would be used to. And I'll be damned if I have to hear some spoiled princess complain 'bout how ruddy awful my ship is."

"That, Captain Reynolds, is not something you'll have to worry about," the lieutenant said coolly. "Mrs. Kubat chose your ship personally. She felt that such an environment would be 'educational' for her children."

"Shiny," Mal muttered, "I always wanted ta be a school lesson."

"Then I suppose you aren't really life's punching bag, now are you?" the lieutenant said, raising his eyebrow in what might have been a facial expression. "This is a list of Mrs. Kubat's requirements. She and her children will be boarding tomorrow morning at eight a.m. your ship will depart promptly at eight-thirty."

"Ahh," Mal said. "That ain't exactly possible."

"It is not only possible, it is what will happen," the lieutenant said forcefully.

"No, you see, we ain't scheduled to leave for another day."

"Your schedule has changed," the lieutenant asserted. "I thought I'd made that clear."

"Problem is," Mal said, putting an edge on his own voice. "Inara, our registered companion, she's got clients. She ain't supposed to come back ta the ship 'till tammara night."

"Her clientele have been notified of her early departure and we will include compensation for her lost income in your fee."

"Well," Mal said, suddenly finding his mouth very dry. "I guess you've got it all figured out."

"The Alliance is nothing if not thorough," the lieutenant said, collecting the massive amounts of paperwork that were required to commandeer a privet vessel for Alliance transport work.

"Oh, the Alliance is plenty of other things," Mal muttered.

"What did you say?" the lieutenant asked 

"Just wonderin' at the great Alliance," Mal said quickly. "Somethin' you do often 'nuff I'd wager."

"Fine," the lieutenant clipped. "I advise you to return to your ship and prepare it for your passengers."

Mal nodded and stood. "If that's what the great Alliance wants . . ."

"Good day, Captain Reynolds," the lieutenant said, handing Mal his portion of the paper work. Mal took it, forced a smile, turned and stormed out of the room.

"Captain," Zoë said. She'd had to jog to catch up with him as he made a bee-line to the exit. Jayne followed, as always, ambivalent. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, Zoë, yeah, just great," Mal said with sarcastic relish. "We got us a real good job. Government work. Woo-hoo."

Jayne laughed, "_Fei__ hu, I could a sworn you were gonna walk outta that room without a ship."_

"There was no call to think that," Zoë snapped, glancing at the groups of Alliance officers mingling in the barracks hallways. "Cap'in hadin' done a thing wrong."

Jayne grunted a laugh, "Right."

"Speekin' a wrong, we're ya able to convince Mr. Talbar we weren't narcs," Mal asked.

"'Fraid not sir," Zoë said crisply.

"Yeah, well, not surprised," Mal muttered as they reached the barracks exit. "Alliance humped us good, pullin' us outta a bar like they did, in the middle of a transaction. We'll be lucky ta ever get work in this town again. It's them or nothin'."

"So we did take the job, sir?" Zoë asked. There was a definite disappointment in her voice. 

"As it's been explained to me, we never had a choice."

TO BE CONTINUED . . . 

  


* * *


	2. Nothing like a good book

"W'as that smell?" Kaylee asked, crinkling her nose as the walked into the shop.

"Books," Simon said, taking a deep breath. "Ink and paper."

"Smells all musty," Kaylee said.

"The books are made out of wood pulp, plant mater," River said. "They're decomposing. Data is stored more efficiently in binary form in synthetically produced computers. It takes up less space, there is not the threat of decomposition, and it is easier to cross reference and access."

"Oh," Kaylee said. "Guess that makes sense."

"Well isn't she a little smarty," A withered voice said from their right. Simon and Kaylee both jumped, and turned to look at an old man with thick glasses and clearly arthritic hands sitting on a low stool behind a tall desk. River didn't turn to look at him; instead she took a step further into the store, her quick brown eyes glancing over the many titles. "If she don't like my books she can leave."

"No," Simon said quickly, "No, I'm sure she likes your books just fine. Sometimes she's just, ah . . ."

"She don't always know how what she says sounds," Kaylee explained kindly. "Ya know how some people is."

"Humm," the man grunted. "You gonna buy anything or just breathe my air?"

"Ah, buy," Simon said, seeing very clearly that was the only answer that wouldn't get them kicked out. "We will buy something. I'm just not sure what."

"Well, alls we got we got out," the man muttered. "'Spect you know the Dewey Decimal system."

"Not by heart," Simon said.

"Six hundred," River called out, "Technology, applied sciences. Six hundred and thirty, agriculture and related technologies. Six hundred and thirty six, animal husbandry. Six hudred and thirty six point seven, dogs; point eight, cats."

"You lookin' fer books on breedin' cats?" the man asked.

"I don't -- I don't think so," Simon said quickly. "Kaylee, I should . . ."

"Go ahead," Kaylee said, "I kin brows."

Simon smiled at her, gratefully, and then hurried to find River who was, by now, lost in the stacks.

Once Simon was gone, the old man turned his attention to Kaylee, "You want something, Miss? Maybe something for him?"

"What?" Kaylee asked, a little startled. 

"Are you here to buy a book?"

"Ta be truthful, I don't do much readin' myself."

"Humm," the old man harrumphed, clearly judging her. "What about the boy you're with. The one that chased after the other girl."

"She's his sister," Kaylee said quickly. 

"Maybe you'd like ta buy him a book. He clearly appreciates them."

"I don't know what he'd want."

"Gent like that," the old man said, glancing towards where Simon had disappeared. "Who appreciates the smell of a bookshop, I figure I know what he wants."

Kaylee walked over to the large counter, "Kin ya show me?" she asked in a very quiet voice.

Four large, completely filled bookshelves away, Simon had caught up with River, who was no longer looking at books, but was peering through the spaces between them. He was about to say her name and ask what sort of book she would like, but before he could she spoke.

"Why is _she here?" River asked, glancing at Kaylee through the stacks, with pure hatred._

"Who? Kaylee?"

River nodded. 

Simon opened his mouth, expecting that he'd have a very good, very reasonable answer, because he usually did. But this time, much to his surprise, he didn't. "Because," he finally said. "It makes our story more believable."

"Because you want to marry her," River said, turning from her spying so she could look at him with clear contempt.

"What?" Simon asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

"You want to marry her," River replied simply. "That's why they believe you'd go off, that's why you're not scared. You want to be with her, you don't want to be with me."

                "That's not true at all," Simon said, flabbergasted. "We couldn't tell the Alliance about you, you know that. And I do . . ."

"I'm a burden," River asserted. "I'm a problem."

"No," Simon said again, desperately. "Not at all."

"You shouldn't lie; you're not very good at it."

Simon sighed and looked away. Talking to River was, too often, a heart-and-soul breakingly difficult task, and often her lucid moments were as crushing as her mad ones. "River, I love you."

"Do you love her?" River said, almost accusingly. 

"Do I . . . ."

"You don't have to lie to me," River said, turning around, making it clear the conversation was over. "I already know the answer." She turned to the stack of books behind her and pulled down the thickest volume on the shelf, it was so heavy that she nearly dropped it. She would have if Simon hadn't reached out and help her catch it "This is the one I want."

* * *

"Where the hell are the kids?" Mal demanded. If he'd been able to slam Serenity's hatch behind him, he would have.

"I assume your talking about Kaylee, Simon and River," Shepherd Book said calmly from the stairs. 

Mal shot him a violent glance, before ascending, "Yeah."

"They went into the city, I believe," the shepherd said as he slowly walked down to the main floor of the cargo bay. "I'm sure they'll be back soon."

"_Gan__ er nu," Mal spat. "We got us here a situation that's gonna take some workin' an' I can't exactly work it without them here." He tuned to Jayne and Zoë, who were, as ever, following him. "We need to find them, Jayne you ought'a . . . ."_

"They will be back," Book asserted. "It'd be best to just wait, I'd wager."

"Really, Shepherd?" Mal demanded tetchily. "They give you a schedule, by chance?"

"They didn't want to be around when the Alliance toured the ship. We all thought it would be best if they slipped out the back hatch."

Mal starred at the shepherd, dumbfounded.

"I hope you agree," Book said. Having reached the main level of the cargo bay, he'd started walking towards where Mal, Zoë and Jayne were standing.

"The alliance toured Serenity?" Mal said, his eyebrows shooting up.

"They wanted to make sure it was up to code."

That actually made Mal laugh, "Code?"

"Did they forget that they searched the whole gorramn ship no more'n three months ago?" Jayne asked.

"I think they were too busy looking for Simon and River to concern themselves with code," Zoë said, taking a deep breath.

                "True," Mal said, "But that is a point. Why ain't they brought up the whole reaver incident?"

No one had an answer.

"This whole job has a stink about it," Mal muttered.

"Well what can we do, sir?" Zoë asked. 

"Not a gorramn thing's what," Jayne said. "So's if it's all the same ta you, Mal . . ."

"Hey!" Wash yelled from the top of the catwalks. "It's about time you guys got back."

"What's the news Wash?" Mal called up as the pilot bounded down the stairs two at a time, using the banisters to propel himself forward quicker.

"Nothin' good," Wash called. "Is there a reason that the Alliance is sending me flight plans?"

Mal sighed and looked away, "Zoë, I'd be grateful if you could explain this to your husband."

"Yes sir," she said officially, then turning to Wash as he hit the floor of the cargo bay and walked towards them, obvious confusion and concern on his face. "We've got a job Honey. Government work."

"We got government work?" Wash said, amazed.

"Real honest wages?" Book asked, clearly impressed. "I hadn't realized . . ."

"Look, Preacher," Mal snapped. "I don't need any snobbish, sarcastic lessons on morality right now."

"Don't we hate the Alliance?" Wash asked, raising his hand. "I mean, with the whole war thing, and poor River, I was defiantly under the impression that we really hated the Alliance."

"You know what I hate even more?" Mal said. "Havin' those _huai__ dans wonder why I'm turnin' down a perfectly legitimate, all-to-easy job. They got the power fer now, better ta do them a favor than piss them off."_

"I don' see what the big deal is," Jayne said. "Job's a job. Who cares who for?"

Mal wasn't about to respond to that, he turned back to his pilot, "Now tell me truthful, Wash, you were here when the Alliance took their tour?"

"Yeah, I showed them around."

"And?"

"And what? I showed them around. They looked at the engine, looked at the controls up in the cockpit, looked at the infirmary."

"The infirmary?" Mal said.

"Yeah."

"Did they ask about the doctor?" Zoë asked.

"Ah, yeah, they asked if he was a real doctor or just some _meng__ gu dai fu from a backwater planet believes in acupuncture and herbal remedies."_

"What did you tell him?" Mal said, fury skirting around the edges of his voice.

"Cool it," the pilot said, holding his hands in front of him. "I told him I'd never seen the kid's credentials."

"I believe your exact words were 'We didn't ask to see his degree before he saved Kaylee's life, and we didn't need to see them afterwards.'" Book supplied.

"What did you tell them about when Kaylee got shot?"

"Well I sure as hell didn't tell them the whole truth," Wash snapped, a little annoyed that Mal was so worried, like he didn't know how to lie to authorities. "I said that we'd picked up passengers between Boros and Calloway and that there was an accident. Simon Tambarino just happened to be one of our passengers and after he saved Kaylee you offered him a job."

"Tambarino?" Jayne laughed. "Was the best you could do?"

"Hey, I was under pressure," Wash said defensively. 

"And that explanation," Mal asked. "That was enough for them?" 

"I guess," Wash said. "Didn't hurt that a Shepherd was swearing to its validity." 

"Preacher," Mal said, wonder in his voice. "Did you lie?"

"I said that we were extremely lucky to have such a talented doctor on board," Book asserted calmly. "I'm not responsible for how they interpreted that."

"What happened next?" Mal asked.

"After that they moved on to the guest quarters."

"Did they see Rivier's things?" Zoë asked.

"Naw, they just wanted to see one of the rooms. I showed them an empty one, they asked if the others were like it, I said pretty much and they moved on to the engine room."

"They didn't ask to speak to Kaylee?" Zoë asked. "Or Simon?"

"Naw, I know they saw Kaylee and Simon coming in," Wash explained. "She was getting passengers and he was keeping her company."

"The fact that they rabbited, that didn't make them suspicious?" Mal asked.

"Don't think so," Wash shrugged. "It was Kaylee and Simon. What would you think if you saw the two a them sneak off together?"

"I'm too decent minded to think anything," Mal quipped. "But I see your point." He sighed and looked at the portion of his crew that he trusted the most, that he didn't have to stay up at night worrying over, that he knew would be able to take care of themselves if this thing turned sour. Not that he wanted them to have to take care of themselves, but at least, worse come too worse, they could. Now, the Tams and Little Kaylee, they were another story entirely; innocent kids who got thrown into a very corrupt and grown up world. 

Then there was Inara, who wasn't innocent and wasn't a kid but she was still . . . well Mal still felt responsible for her. 

"There's no reason to think that the Alliance here's connected us with River, even if they did see Simon. Wash's lie's close enough to the truth to hold a lake a water. Maybe that business with the Reaver did us a good turn, maybe after such a thorough search we're in the clear. In any case we gotta make the best of this Gorramn business and get it done as soon as possible. Wash, you heard from Inara?"

"Ah, yeah, she contacted me and was in a real snit, said the Alliance canceled one of her jobs."

"When will she be back?"

"She's got a client tonight and that she'll be here by seven in the morning."

"_Ling," Zoë muttered. _

"Well, 'spect she's got to get it in when she can," Mal said dryly. "Until then we gotta . . ."

"Cap'in?" Kaylee's timid voice called from outside. Mal turned and saw his little mechanic looking in on the gathering, chewing on her lower lip as if she'd done something wrong.

"Well now girl, I was just about to say how we were waitin' on you. Where ya been?" Mal asked.

"'Round," Kaylee said vaguely. "We were just wonderin' if we ought'a come back now or, you know, keep outta yer hair. What with the important Alliance . . . stuff."

"I'm thinkin' now would be a good time for y'all ta come back," Mal said. "Ain't no one here but what you see."

Kaylee nodded and smiled, "Shiny." She disappeared back to the street, presumably to fetch Simon and River. Two minutes later the three of them walked up the hatch. Simon, who looked as if he had been holding his breath since they'd left Serenity, was guiding River back into the ship. There was little worry that anyone would have recognized the young girl, her face was buried in a large book, too large a book to be reading while walking, but somehow River managed. Kaylee brought up the rear, looking for suspicious people, making herself somewhat suspicious in the process.

"Is everything all right, Captain?" Simon asked with no confidence in his voice. Mal wondered, for a second, what the young doctor would do if the answer to that question had been no. Would he have grabbed his sister and disappeared into the masses of people in the city and hoped against hope that would be enough to keep them safe? It was an interesting question to ponder, but Mal didn't really have the time.

"Seems ta be, although we're gonna be a bit touch and go for the next week or so."

"What do you mean?" Simon asked.

"Alliance commissioned us to take a group a passengers to New Dallas for them."

"And you accepted?" Simon said, his voice panicked. "Are you mad?"

"At them pushy government folk, hell yah," Mal said. "But it's a good job and it's good money. And it won't hurt fer us to be on the good side a the law for once."

"But Cap'in?" Kaylee asked, "What about . . ." her gaze drifted towards River, who was utterly consumed in her large volume.

"That's a problem, I admit. But it ain't one we can't work out. I got here a whole list a orders and regulations and such. Now that we're all here we're gonna sit down and go over them and figure a way to make this work. An' it will work. They've already inspected Serenity once and they ain't found a thing wrong. Less we do somethin' damn foolish, there ain't no reason fer them ta do anythin' but pay us."

Simon didn't look convinced.

"It'll be all right, son," Mal assured him, then turning to the rest of the crew. "I know we were all lookin' forward to a nice night out, an' you can still have it. But first we're gonna have to figure 'xatly how we wanna play this. So if we could maybe close up _Serenity, Zoë?"_

"Yes sir," she said, turning and jogging to the hatch controls.

"I think it might be best if the rest a us go ta the common area an' talk over how, exactly, this is going to work," Mal said as the hatch rumbled to a close behind him.

There was a general nodding and mutter of agreement. 

"I'll just take River to her room," Simon said, ushering his oblivious sister towards their quarters.

"No," Mal said. "She's a part a this. There's times ta protect your sister, boy, and there's times to make her stand on her own two feet."

"Captain, I don't. . ."

"This is one of them latter times," Mal said forcefully. "Now come on."

"Yes sir," Simon said, tugging his sister's elbow slightly, following the rest of the crew.

"Good Phryxis," River muttered.

"What?" Simon said, truly confused.

"You should always follow Odysseus," River said, glancing up from her large book. "He may not know the way, but he does get home. Which is more than I can say for you."

Simon looked at her, unsure of what to say. The explanation had made perfect sense, if they'd been talking about Greek Mythology and not real life. "Are you talking about the book?"

"The book is talking about us," River answered. "Didn't you know? Why, why would you know? You can't believe me. No one can believe me."

"River, I'll believe you," Simon said, turning and trying to look her in the eye. He couldn't, she kept glancing away.

"No, you can't. No one can," River muttered again. "She'll slaughter everyone and no one will believe me."

TO BE CONTINUED . . . 


	3. The pressing need to leave

                "Everything's set," Inara said as she floated down the stairs.  

                "Thank you," Simon called over his shoulder from his place in line.  Serenity's seven crew members, minus Inara who was hurrying to her position were all lined up, Zoë, Wash, Jayne, Kaylee, Simon, Book: like the crew of a cruse ship to welcome passengers.  Simon couldn't shake the feeling that it was more like lining up for a firing squad. 

                Mal was also looking at Inara, her dress, which seemed to be a random composition of silken scarves and sashes, flowing behind her.  He had to force himself to keep his mind on business, "She ain't gonna get out?"

                "River understands the situation," Inara said, taking her place at the end of the line, next to the Shepherd.  "She has plenty of food and that big book. There's nothing out here she needs."

                Simon glanced behind him, towards the door to Inara's shuttle.  "Right," he said very softly.

                Kaylee slipped his hand into his and squeezed comfortingly, "Don' worry," she said softly.  "This'll work."

                "And you locked it?" Mal asked.  "From the outside?"

                "Yes, Mal, I locked it," Inara sighed.

                "I just . . . I hate to think of her alone, all the time," Simon continued in a whisper.  "She does so much better when there are people to talk to."

                "She don't hardly ever talk to anyone but you," Kaylee pointed out.

                "Still," Simon said.  "I think she needs to see people.  If I'm here, if I'm real, then she can know that the nightmare's over."

                "Would you two stop whispering?" Mal said sharply, turning to glare at Simon and Kaylee.

                "Yes sir," they both muttered. 

                "Now remember, we're a perfectly respectable crew doin' a perfectly respectable job.  We ain't hiddin' nothin' and we'er glad to be helpin' out the alliance.  Is that understood?"

                Everyone nodded, with the exception of Jayne looked straight ahead, icily, and Zoë who offered a crisp, "Yes sir."

                "Good," Mal breathed.  Turning back around to see an Alliance patrol, looking very much out of place at the lower rent docks, escorting a very affluent, stiff woman and a gaggle of well behaved boys with blond, curly hair in matching suites, whose age seemed to range between six and sixteen.  There was also a pair of soldiers carrying a young girl on stretcher As Mal sussed up the family he couldn't help but hope that his first impressions were not accurate.  If they were, this was going to be one of the worst weeks of his life.

                Regardless, he stepped forward, offered the entire company his most congenial smile and said, "Mrs. Kubat, welcome to _Serenity."_

                The stiff woman looked up at Mal and seemed disappointed.  "You are the captain?"

                "Yes, ma'am, I am," Mal said, bowing slightly, not letting her coldness chill his warm demeanor.  "Cap'in Malcolm Reynolds, this here's the first mate Zoë . . . ."

                "Perhaps later," she said dismissively, as her eyes scanned the seven people lined up before her.  Once her gaze found Simon, she smiled, "Ah, Doctor, come here."

                Simon felt his heart stop, he couldn't breath.  He would have stayed still, frozen in terror if Kaylee hadn't whispered, "Go on, Simon," and pushed him forward gently with her elbow.  

                "Ah, ye--yes?" Simon said, swallowing his fear as best he could as he walked down the hatch towards Mrs. Kubat.

                "This is Evangeline," the stiff woman said, nodding to the girl lying, semi-conscious, on the stretcher.  "These men will take her to your infirmary and you will make sure she is properly cared for."

                Simon found he could breathe again.  He took a more confident step towards the girl, "What's wrong with her?"

                "I wish to get off this disgusting planet as soon as possible," Mrs. Kubat snapped.  "Do as I say!"

                "Of . . ." Simon stuttered, glancing somewhat fearfully at Mal, who could do little more than shrug at the boy.  "Of course.  If you, ah, gentlemen will follow me."  Simon led the two men carrying the little girl past the rest of the crew and to the back of the ship.

                "I, ah, I wasn't aware that we were going to be transporting someone who required medical attention," Mal said, trying to smile at Mrs. Kubat.

                "You didn't need to know," Mrs. Kubat said formally.  "Now, if your crew would load our luggage, my children and I would like to see our quarters."

                "Course," Mal clipped, still smiling, although that exercise was becoming somewhat taxing.  He turned to the line of crewmembers, "Zoë, you heard the lady, gotta get their bags on board."

                "Yes sir," the first mate said.  "Wash, Jayne, Kaylee."

                "I'll help too," Book volunteered.  

                "Fine, Inara, you can come with me to show our guests their quarters."

                "Of course, Captain," Inara said.

                "That's the companion?" Mrs. Kubat said, sucking her breath in with obvious distain.

                Inara, ever the lady, ignored the older woman's poor manners.  "My name is Inara Mrs. Kubat.  And anything I can do to make your trip more . . ."

                "Don't tempt my boy's, seductress."

                Inara's composed smile faltered just a bit.

                Mal cleared his throat, "She don't service crew or passengers, Ma'am," he informed her.  "Strict policy, never broken."

                "It's better that way," Inara said, having regained her flawless composure.  "Sex too often complicates situations that need to stay simple."

                "Good," Mrs. Kubat said icily.  "Now, if you please."

                "Of course," Mal said, leading her and her entourage past the laboring crew, through the cargo bay, and towards the passenger's quarters.  "_Serenity is the most dependable ship you could hope to travel on.  She ain't flashy, but that's all for the better.  Real reliable make, Fireflies."_

                "How fast does she go?" the second tallest boy asked.  

                "Well, in deep space she can make about . . ."

                "Don't ask the captain questions," Mrs. Kubat said forcefully.  "He's a very important man and should not be bothered.  Now apologize."

                "I'm sorry Captain Reynolds sir."

                "Ain't no problem," Mal said, more than a little startled by the woman's severe reaction.  "I don't mind the questions."

                "Indeed," Inara said smiling broadly at the family.  "I can't think of anything Mal likes talking about more than his ship."

                "You call him by his first name?" Mrs. Kubat asked, almost accusingly.

                "Ah," Mal said, "Nara's been shipping out with us nearly a year now.  With such a small crew can't help but be friendly."

                "I don't want you being friendly with me, Captain.  Me or my family."

                "No worries there Ma'am," Mal said.  "I'm sure the crew will be as, ah, unfriendly as you want us."

                "I'll be holding you to that, Captain." 

                "Right," Mal muttered, wondering how he could convince Kaylee to be unfriendly as he led the family into the common room.  "Well, this here's the common area," Mal said. "It's a niceish sized room.  While y'all are on board you can use it as much as you like for just 'bout anything you like.  School lessons or, whatever."

                Mrs. Kubat looked over the room and didn't comment, Mal, feeling the need for someone to say something, kept talking.  "And, ah, as you can see this here's the infirmary.  Seein' as your daughter might be needin' ta be in there for, ah, for some time, I figure you'll be glad ta see it's so close."

                "Captain, our rooms." Mrs. Kubat said, her patience was clearing growing thin.

                "I, ah, I actually didn't set that part a it up. Inara,"

                The companion smiled and stepped forward.  "I'm afraid that the orders we were given were unspecific in terms of how many rooms you would be needing.  Kaylee was under the impression you needed ten?"

                "You're mechanic was wrong," she said solidly.  "I will require a room for myself, four rooms for my boys, and a room for my husband."

                "Yer what?" Mal asked.  

                "Husband," Mrs. Kubat said coolly.  

                "I thought you were gonna go meet yer husband," Mal said.  "Over on New Dallas."

                "Who said that?" Mrs. Kubat demanded. 

                "Well, ah," Mal stuttered.  "No one, I guess."

                "Most of these rooms are singles," Inara said calmly, trying not to react to the news that an Alliance Prefect would be on the ship.  "But there are a few that can be opened and changed to doubles.  It will only take a minute."

                "My husband and I will not be sharing a room, not under any circumstances," Mrs. Kubat said with unquestionable firmness.  "Now, I want to make sure that my boys are settled before their father arrives."

                "Of course," Inara said graciously.  "If you'll just follow me . . ."

*   *   *

                River sat in the pilot's seat of Inara's shuttle and watched the world disappear behind her.  She toyed with the idea of overriding the lockouts and taking off.  The ship was rising at a speed of three hundred miles per hour, which meant she had approximately six minuets until they reached the edges of the atmosphere.  She could easily override the lock out by then, as well as hack into Serenity's computer and override the air locks there.    

                She wouldn't be able to hide her escape, she reasoned, the sudden weight and balance change would be immediately apparent so close to a gravitational field.  But she wasn't convinced that would matter, because she wasn't convinced they would come after her.  They might come after the shuttle, that much was true, but she could easily dump that and start out on her own.  Inara had enough money saved in her account to facilitate a fairly comfortable, if not extravagant life, on a backwater planet for years, and it couldn't take more than thirty seconds to use the cortex to hack Inara's account, and another minute to set up one of her own and transfer all the funds.  Simon would have to repay the companion, naturally, but that was all right.  Simon wouldn't mind because, with River gone, he could marry Kaylee and have a happy life.     River could live alone in a small cabin, grow her own food, and not talk to anyone.  Well, except her cats.  She would have to have cats if she was going to be living alone in a small cabin in the middle of a backwater planet, otherwise she'd go totally insane.  

                River was defiantly tempted.  But she was also afraid.  This was nothing new; at the Academy fear had become her constant companion; fear of pain, fear of feeling nothing, fear of the things she saw, fear of the things she didn't see, fear of the noises, fear of the silence, fear of tomorrow, fear of memories of yesterday, fear of everyone and everything.  She's lived and breathed fear for almost three years.  And then Simon had come, and the fear was gone.  She could remember before the fear, and Simon had been there too.  Simon was the only one who'd ever been able to keep the fear at bay.  He didn't conquer it, he didn't slay it, but he pushed it away at arms length, and kept her sheltered behind his back, where she could pretend there was nothing to be afraid of.  

                Even as she pondered the implications of leaving _Serenity, leaving Simon, her hands started to tremble and her breathing started to come in gasps.  This was a horrible, horrible thing to consider.  She would die without Simon.  Whatever that big blackness was that whispered her name in her darkest nightmares, it would reach out and get her if her noble brother wasn't standing over her, defending her, a knight in armor, an epic hero.  _

                "'I am sinking beneath my troubles,'" she muttered, quoting from her very large volume, which was lying open on Inara's bed. "'Send me my brother!'"

                No one heard her.  Simon didn't come.

To Be Continued . . . 


	4. Meet the Kubats

"Hey Simon," Kaylee said, smiling as she saw the doctor enter the kitchen. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and he had a generally weary look in his eyes that always made her heart go all mushy. 

"Hey," he said, smiling weakly at the assembled crew, Zoë, Wash, Jayne and Kaylee, who were sitting cozily in the arm chairs around the small circular table at the edge of the kitchen. "Is this hot?" he asked, motioning to the kettle. 

"Should be just 'nuff for one more cup," Zoë said. 

"Thanks," Simon said, politely, as he pulled a mug out of its cubby. 

"How's that girl?" Kaylee asked, leaning forward so she could keep her eyes on him as he pulled a packet of powdered tea out of the drawer.

"Evangeline?" Simon asked, glancing up from his packaged tea. "She's, ah, I don't know."

"You been workin' on her since take off," Jayne sneered. "Ain't you even figured out what's wrong with her yet?"

"No," Simon said softly, poring the powder into his hot water and stirring the mixture for a moment before turning and refilling the kettle. 

"Is she sick?" Wash asked. "Or hurt, or . . ."

"I don't know," Simon asserted, walking over and sitting down an empty chair next Kaylee. "She seems weak, and, ah, doped, but beyond that . . ."

"You just spent four hours examinin' a little girl an' you can't even figure what's wrong with her?" Jayne laughed, clearly enjoying Simon's failure.  
"There are any number of diseases she could have," Simon said a little defensively. "Some types of cancer, some blood diseases, an infection of the nervous system. If I had a medical history I'd have a treatment plan developed by now, but I couldn't even get Mrs. Kubat to talk to me. And the man who joined them, whoever he is, just referred me back to her."

"Wait," Zoë said, holding her hand up. "You don't know who he is?"

"No," Simon said, "Why, who is he?"

"That man is Mr. Kubat."

"Mister . . .?" Simon muttered, "Her brother?"

"Try her husband," Wash said with a dry laugh.

"But I thought her husband was a Prefect, didn't Mal tell us . . ."

"Her husband is a Prefect," Zoë said. "Seen his papers and everything. He's being transferred to New Dallas and decided that we were the perfect ship to give him an' his a ride."

"A Prefect?" Simon asked again. "An Alliance Prefect, on _Serenity_?"

"Damn hilarious ain't it?" Jayne asked. "I mean, if you ain't bein' hunted down by the Alliance Brass like some sort a dirty dog what killed a chicken." He laughed wickedly in Simon's general direction.

"Stop it," Kaylee scolded, placing her hand on the doctor's shoulder and patting it kindly. "They've seen you an' they trust you," she assured the young man. "Ain't no reason to be afraid."

"Kaylee's right," Zoë said. "If they intended to turn you in they'da done it before we left port."

Simon took a deep drink of his tea and tried to believe was he'd just been told.

"This job just doesn't make sense," Wash mumbled. He was playing with the salt shaker, unscrewing and rescrewing its lid. "If we ignore the fact that the overly starched Mrs. Kubat chose _Serenity_, why the hell would her husband come with?"

"And why would they bring the kids?" Zoë added. "This ain't exactly a family friendly ship."

"Hold up," Jayne said, glancing maliciously at Simon. "That oldest boy, he looked ta be about River's age. Hey Little Kaylee, feel up to some match makin?"

"No," Simon said. "We're not even talking about her."

"I da, know," Jayne mused. "I think it'd be fun."

"Shut up, Jayne," Zoë ordered. "Doc's right. Cap'in ordered us not to talk 'bout her."

"Hope she's alright," Kaylee said, glancing out the door, as if the interior of Inara's shuttle was just through it. 

"She's fine, she's just fine," Simon said, more to convince himself than Kaylee. 

"_Bu bi fan_," Zoë said firmly. "Soon as things here get settled and . . ."

She was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a group of boys bounding up a mettle staircase. Seconds later the four blond haired, blue eyed, porcelain skinned Kubat boys burst into the kitchen. Obviously, their mother had no idea what they were doing. They were talking to each other in the excited voices of children who are disobeying, not really quiet, but obviously endeavoring not to be loud. Their suit jackets had been disregarded, with the exception of the second smallest boy' who's jacket was tied around his waist. Their ties were undone, and retied on various parts of their body, across the forehead, over the right bicep, around the thigh, and the youngest had it simply slung over his shoulder. As son as the boys realized that their exploring had lead them to an occupied room they stopped. Innocent, naive, childish terror filled their eyes. _Serenity's_ crew couldn't help but think it was amusing.

"Well hello," Zoë said, trying not to laugh too hard at the boys. Her husband's snickers were conspicuous, but then, Kaylee's giggles accompanied them. Simon was smiling, almost fondly, and Jayne looked like he would laugh as soon as he figured out what exactly in this situation struck him as funny.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the oldest boy said, ushering his brother's behind him. "We didn't know anyone was up here."

"That's fine," Zoë said, "Come on up. There's plenary a room."

The second youngest boy peeked around his brother's shoulder. "Is this where you have the food?"

"Yes it is," Zoë said. "You're welcome to any of it you'd like."

The two middle boys smiled at each other with a knowing look and scampered over to the cabinets to see what they could find. 

"Maybe I should make sure they don't make a mess," Wash said, pushing himself out of his chair. 

"Fine," Zoë said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it before he could scoot away. "Just remember to act your age."

"Hey," the youngest boy said, taking a step away form his older brother closer to the table. "Our mama always says that."

"Really?" Wash said, smiling down at the boy. "So does my wife."

"You are married?" The oldest boy said, glancing from Zoë to Wash and back to Zoë again as he approached _Serenity's_ crew with a caution his brother's lacked. The boy looked to be about fifteen, with shrewd eyes and a generally commanding stance. 

"That we are," Zoë said. "I'm Zoë, ships first mate, and that there's Wash, my husband."

"So, you are in charge, after Captain Reynolds, I mean," the boy asked.

"Yes, I am," Zoë said, smiling up at the boy. "Wanna sit down? There a space open," She said, nodding towards Wash's recently vacated chair. 

"Hey, hey," Wash said, turning, "You givin' my seat away?"

"Just seein' that there's someone here ta keep it warm fer ya," Zoë said playfully.

"I don't want to sit down," the boy told Zoë. "Does your husband have a job?"

"Yeah," Wash called over his shoulder, "I keep her from becoming a grumpy old maid."

"_Lao gong_," Zoë laughed, "I could never be an old maid."

"Yeah, but you sure can be grumpy," Wash retorted. 

_Serenity's_ crew laughed good naturedly at the marital banter, the oldest Kubat boy continued to stand stoically and just observe.

"He's the ships pilot," Kaylee explained, since the boys clearly weren't getting the joke. "Best in the sky." 

"We're in deep space," the boy said seriously. "Not in the sky."  
"Well when you're in space every where's sky," Kaylee said simply.

"Who is she," he asked Zoë.

"I'm Kaylee," the young woman said, before Zoë could answer for her.

"What do you do?" the boy asked causally. 

"I'm the mechanic."

"Kaylee makes sure Serenity's runs smooth," Zoë said, patting Kaylee supportively on the back. "She's a real _hoa shou_." 

"And you're the doctor?" The boy said, moving on. "Doctor Tambarino."

Zoë and Jayne started laughing; Kaylee tried her best to cap her giggles for Simon's sake. 

"You should just call me Simon, I think . . ." the doctor said. Even he was trying not to laugh at Wash's mangling of his name. " . . .I think it would be easier."

"Doctor Simon," the boy said officially.

"Just Simon," the doctor insisted. "Titles aren't really . . ."

"Doctor," the boy insisted forcefully. "We'll just call you doctor. It's respectful."

"It is at that," Simon said softly.

"An' you can call me Mr. Cobb," Jayne said, loudly pulling the attention away from Simon.

"What do you do, Mr. Cobb?" the boy asked.

"Pretty much what I like," Jayne said.

"How 'bout you, boy?" Zoë asked. "Think you could introduce yerself 'n your brothers?"

"My mama doesn't want us conversing with the crew."

"Seems a might late fer that," Zoë observed.

"No, no, no," Wash said from around the corner. "You don't eat that blue paste on red crackers, you want the green ones, here, I'll show you."

"Come on," Kaylee pleaded. "We're real nice."

"Mama said . . ." the boy hesitated.

"Who care's what ol' Mama said?" Jayne demanded.

"We should respect his mother's wishes," Simon said cautiously.

"I'm Felix!" the youngest boy said, "And I'm seven!"

"Well hello Felix," Kaylee said, smiling beautifully at the boy.

"Felix," The oldest boy scolded, obviously embarrassed.

"This here's Robert, an' he's fifteen."

"Pleased to meet you, Robert," Zoë said, nodding at the boy formally.

"That's Albert, he's ten, and Thomas is twelve."

"You're real friendly Felix," Kaylee said. "Wanna have a tour a the ship."

"Mama wouldn't," Robert started.

"Mama wouldn't want you up here, an' still, here ya are," Zoë said, "Why don't you go on the tour. There ain't much ta see on Serenity, but what's worth a gander Kaylee'll show ya."

"Felix, no." Robert said firmly.

"Hey, Robby," Jayne said. "Ya ever see a gun?"

"A . . . a gun?" 

"Yeah," Jayne said, standing up, showing how very impressively muscular he was. "A real gun, not one a them pussy hand arms they give Alliance patrols, or even them semi-automatic jokes they seem ta think is so impressive. A gun with kick."

"No," Robert said, obviously interested. 

"Well, hows 'bout this," Jayne said. "You stop bein' such a pain in the ass and let yer brother's do as they like an' then, then maybe when I show you these guns, I'll be less inclined ta shoot you in your little retentive anus."

"Jayne," Zoë scolded with comfortable familiarity. "Don't threaten to kill the passengers."

"Can I threaten to kill Doctor Tambarino?" Jayne asked, trying and failing to suppress a bout of hysteric laughter.

"So long as you only threaten," Simon said, glaring back at Jayne. 

"Would you really show me your guns?" Robert asked, taking an intrepid step towards Jayne. 

"You really wanna see 'em?" Jayne asked, a little taken a back by the boy's interest.

Robert nodded, "These are real guns, I mean, you've shot them."

"Yeah," Jane grunted. "Used real bullets an' everything."

"Could I, maybe, shoot one?" Robert asked boldly. 

"_Da dai_," Zoë muttered.

"Not a big one," Robert explained. "But, you know, I'd, ah, I'd like to shoot a gun."

"Well now," Jayne said, a smile spreading across his face. "Why don't you follow me and we'll see what we kin do."

"Yes sir, Mr. Cobb," the boy said, obviously grateful and excited.

"Now that's some words I could get used to," Jayne said. "Come on, boy." 

Jayne started walking out of the kitchen, with the eager Robert on his heels.

"Ah, wait," Simon said before the pair had made it past the long table. Jayne turned and glared at the doctor; Simon didn't back down. "Robert, I need to ask you a question, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead, Doctor," Robert said, totally unaware of the hateful look Jayne was shooting at the young doctor. 

"What's wrong with your sister?"

"Evangeline is sick," Robert said simply, before turning to follow Jayne again.

"I know that," Simon said, falling in step behind Jayne and Robert. "But I need to know what kind of sickness."

"She's always been sick, Doctor, ever since she was born."

"Always," Simon said, stopping for a second to consider the new information. He had to jog two or three paces to catch up before he could ask his next question. "How has she been sick?"

"Just sick, Doctor," Robert shrugged. "That's all I know."

"That's all the boy knows, Doc," Jayne growled behind his back. "Stop pesterin' the kid."

"Did you ever hear the name of the disease, or maybe, what types of specialist were brought in?"

"I don't know."

"Pulmonalogist, cardiologist, oncologist, neurologist, does any of that sound familiar?"

"I don't know," Robert instead.

"He don't know," Jayne said emphatically. "Now, lest ya want ta be our target, go away."

"Sorry," Simon said, stopping in the middle of the hallway, letting Jayne and Robert outdistance him on their way to the armory, otherwise known as Jayne's room.

"Don' worry son," Mal said, stepping out of a connecting hallway right behind Simon. 

The boy's heart jumped in his throat as he turned to find the Captain standing, staring at the retreating Jayne and Robert. "Sir?"

"Jayne knows better than to use you as target practice."

Simon smiled briefly, "I know."

"Worried over that little girl, are you?" Mal said, turning back towards the kitchen and nodding that Simon should follow. 

"She seems to be very ill," Simon said. "And I can't figure out why."

"You mean you ain't been told?"

Simon shook his head, "No. It's like it's a secret."

"Yeah, this family's got all sorts a secrets," Mal sighed.

"What do you mean?"

Mal pursed his lips and shook his head, "I'da know. But there are thing ought ta been told that weren't."

"Like the fact that we have a Prefect on board."

"Yeah, fact like that," Mal nodded as they entered the kitchen. 

"Hey Cap'in, Hey Simon" Kaylee said in warm way that was almost enough to melt away the men's foreboding. "I'm takin' Li'll Felix here on a tour a _Serenity_, either a you gents wanna come?"

"Sorry, Little Kaylee," Mal said. "But you ain't doin' that, not just yet."

Kaylee's smile slipped a little, "Wadda ya mean?"

"Little Felix's Ma is complainin' about the engine noise."

"Engine noise?" Kaylee asked, flabbergasted.

"Does the engine make noise?" Simon asked. "I mean, when it's running properly it's more or less silent, isn't it?"

"She's as quiet as any engine could be," Kaylee said, obviously offended by the inference that _Serenity_ wasn't in perfect condition.

"I believe ya," Mal said quickly. "Just thought I'd give you some warning, that's all."

"Warnin'? Why, Mrs. Kubat sure ain't gonna be talkin' ta me," Kaylee said keeping what was left of her smile tenaciously. 

Mal starred down at her, seriously and apologetically. 

Kaylee's smile slipped a little more, "Is she?"

"She wants ta cook fer that girl a her's," Mal said with a sigh, "An' some one's gotta show her round the kitchen."

"Kitchen ain't hardly . . ."

"An' she wants someone else ta cook fer the rest a the family."

"What?" Kaylee said, her smile gone. "I'm the cook now?"

"Just fer a bit," Mal assured her, speaking softly so the Kubat boys couldn't hear. "We kin go without your gourmet meals for a spell, but I don't wanna make waves with these folk, and neither do you, I think."

"Yes sir," Kaylee grumbled, then, turning to Felix, she managed to find her smile, which was a bright as if she'd never lost it. "I'll show you round _Serenity_ another time, kay, Felix? Right now ya think you could introduce me ta your Mama?"

The little boy nodded enthusiastically and grabbed Kaylee's hand with both of his. "Come on," he said adventurously. "I know the way."  
"Well why don' ya just show me?" Kaylee asked, laughing as she was dragged out of kitchen.

* * *

Inara sat in River's room and tried to meditate. She wasn't having great success. The cliché 'Silence is golden' seemed to her, at this point, to be an amazingly insightful nugget of truth. She was used to the deep velvety quiet of her shuttle, hours of nothing but the hum of the life support. She was not used to a young boy playing Alliance vs. Independents as loudly as he could mere yards away from her seemingly paper thin walls. 

The most important skill a companion has is the ability to go within herself and find a deeper quiescence, a calm, a joy. That is what she gives to all the people who see her, whether they realize it or not, her inner peace, her total self-assurance and possession. And sense this all came from within her, she had it in abundant supply. As long as she had ample time to meditate.

The room was too small to burn incense in, so Inara was forced to resort to a small votive candle. There wasn't a table for her to sit at, so she had to practice her calligraphy sitting on the floor. There weren't even pillows and if Mal considered the matted floor covering a rug that space-pirate needed a lesson in interior decorating. Of course, she mused, she'd known that ever since she'd first seen the godawful wall hanging in the common area. But she didn't want to think about that, she wanted to focus on her calligraphy. Straight line, straight line, curved line, thick line fading into thin, an arch, a perpendicular line. A high pitched scream as a boy viciously attacked his imaginary foes. 

Inara suddenly felt the need to scream herself.

The companion took a deep breath and remained herself that this was a little boy, that he didn't know any better and that he didn't have anywhere else to play. 

The incessant wailing of the child calling for his mother after he'd tumbled off the couch and hit his head made Inara realize that she didn't really care. When she had joined the crew of _Serenity_ she had been promised her privacy, she had been promised a space where she could sit and meditate and not be interrupted, she had been promised the illusion, at least, of calm. And while she did not mind giving up the comforts of her shuttle so that River could be safe, she was not about to give up her internal peace. 

She leaned forward and blew out the candle. While the wax dried enough for her to carry it, she collected and packed her paper and her ink and as she was rinsing the ink out of her brush there was a knock at her door "_Jin_."

The thin, translucent, panel that served as a door slid aside and the Prefect Kubat was standing in her doorway, looking at her. He was about fifty, with a husky build and pale skin and a very well trimmed white beard. His eyes were the same striking blue color as his children, although they were obviously the eyes of a very worldly man who'd lost his innocence and joy a long time ago. "Madame Inara?"

"Can I help you with something?" Inara asked, smiling beautifully.

"I was . . . I wondered if you would be so kind as to accompany me at dinner tonight."

"I was under the impression that your family wanted to eat as a unit."

"My wife manages the children," he said dismissively. "I would like to eat with you."

"I see," the Companion said, with perfect composure. "I'm afraid I take my meals alone."

"Ms. Inara, you have been invited . . ."

"A companion must live a very regimented and solitary life," Inara said sweetly. "I'm afraid that, under no circumstances can I accept your invitation."

"Do you understand who I am?" Kubat demanded, anger sulking behind his eyes.

"A passenger on Captain Malcolm Reynolds ship," Inara said simply. "And as such, I can not service you in any way."

"How dare you?" he seemed dangerously near outrage at this point. "This was a polite invitation." 

"In any way," Inara said softly but firmly. Her fixed smile didn't falter. "Now, if you please, I need to find a spot slightly more restful. You're son is playing a charming game, but I find I require quiet for my meditations."

"Of course," the man said stiffly, stepping out of the doorway and clearing a way for Inara, who glided past him with pure grace. She felt his large deep blue eyes watching her as she walked away and his gaze made her skin crawl.

* * *

"Wash."

"Ah, yes Captin?"

"This is what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna turn around and walk down these stairs. Then, when I get ta the bottom, I'm gonna take a deep breath, turn right around, and walk back up them. And when I get up to the top a these stairs and look around the cockpit, you know what I ain't gonna see?"

"What would that be Captain?"

"I ain't gonna see no eight-year-old flyin' my ship."

"Not really a problem Captain," Wash said. "Albert here is ten, Thomas is twelve, no eight-year-olds up here, sir."

"This ain't funny," Mal said, pulling himself fully into the cockpit. "And no matter how you dress her up," he said, picking up one of the many plastic dinosaurs in the room "_Serenity_ ain't no toy fer kids ta be playin' with."

Albert and Thomas, who were sitting in the pilot and co-pilots seats respectively, were on either side of the argument, looking in on it very sheepishly. "I'm sorry," Thomas said. "We didn't mean to get you in trouble Mr. Wash."

"Their not flying anything, Mal," Wash said, very softly so the boys couldn't here. "The course is locked in and I disengaged the manual controls. The boy's are just pretending."

"Well," Mal said, clearing his throat, feeling like an unqualified ass. He desperately tried to save the situation, "You say these here boy's are flyin' straight?"

"As a bird flies," Wash replied. 

"So a might better than you?"

Wash laughed, "Flyin' straight ain't the challenge."

"Fer most, maybe, but you, Wash, are special."

"That's why you hired me."

Mal took a deep breath and smiled at the boys, "Well, can't argue with that."

The boys smiled back. 

"So we aren't in trouble, Captain?" Thomas asked.

"Naw, you ain't in trouble. Just watch out for them moons, tend to pop up on ya."

"Yes sir, Captain," Thomas said, excitedly.

"Yes sir, Captain," Albert echoed.

"Well, then, carry on," Mal said, smiling at the boys before turning and heading out the other door towards his bunk.

"Mal," Wash called after his Captain, "You need anything?"

"Yeah," Mal sighed, turning and speaking to his pilot in a low voice. "I need a room without a gorramn Kubat in it."

"Sorry, Cap, can't help ya there."

"So I see," Mal muttered.

"I'd guess that your room would be pretty safe."

"That was my very notion," Mal said. "If anyone needs me, you know where I am."

"Yes sir, Captain," Wash said imitating the tone of the two boys perfectly and comically.

Mal rolled his eyes, turned, and retreated quickly to his cabin, hoping to find a little solitude. He found something else.

"Come up a little short on this months rent?" Mal asked with a swagger in his voice.

"I needed an escape from the Kubats," Inara said coolly. "I thought hiding here would be poetic justice."

"Poetic because I've got such a romantic soul?" Mal asked, walking over to the bed and lounging on it. Inara, consumed in her calligraphy, ignored him.

"Poetic because you always barge in my shuttle," Inara quipped. 

"You got a room."

"I have a cubical with paper thin walls," Inara said, glancing at Mal for the first time. It wasn't a friendly glance. "I need quiet and, while the hellions are on board, this is the quietest place on _Serenity_."

"What about Kaylee's room."

"Kaylee doesn't barge into my shuttle," Inara said. "I need a place to collect myself, work on my calligraphy and poetry. And like I said, being in here is poetic."

"Right," Mal said, leaning forward and pushing himself off his bed. "'Spose that's fair, you had no kinda choice when I asked ya ta give up your shuttle for River."

"You did ask Mal," Inara reminded him. "I could have said no."

"But we all knew you wouldn't," Mal said, not unkindly. "So, during the day, you can just make yourself at home."

"Thank you," Inara said, smiling up at Mal, who was now more or less directly over her.

"There is just one thing," Mal said.

"And what would that be?"

"Ya gotta leave at night."

"I don't see that being a problem," Inara laughed.

"Just so long as were clear."

"Oh, Captain, you're always perfectly clear to me." 

To be continued . . . 

(and don't forget to support the 'save firefly' campaign. Check out www.fireflyfans.net for more info)


	5. Soup and Specters

"Where am I?" a very soft an weak voice said, pulling Simon away from the medical encyclopedia, which he'd been poring over for the past two hours.

The young doctor turned to see Evangeline, pail and slightly trembling, trying to push herself into a sitting position. "No, don't," Simon said quickly, stumbling a little as he hurried to attend the young girl. "Don't try and get up. Just lie there."

"Who are you?" The girl demanded, obviously upset as she disobeyed his orders and forced herself into a sitting position. "This isn't home. Are you a kidnapper?"

"No, you're on a ship, I'm a doctor."

The girl stared at him blankly.

"Didn't your family tell you that you'd be going on a trip?"

"A trip?" the she, calming just a little. "Mama said we were leaving."

"Well you've, ah, you've left."

"You're a doctor?" the girl asked, somewhat suspiciously.

"Yes I am," Simon said, daring to take a step closer to the beautiful little girl. She reminded him of the porcelain dolls River had collected as a little girl. There was almost no pigment in her skin, her lips had a slightly purplish tint, her flaxen hair was a mess of perfect ringlet curls and her eyes were a hauntingly deep blue. Small and thin for a thirteen-year-old, she looked fragile and every time she moved Simon couldn't quite shake the feeling that she would shatter. "I'm going to be taking care of you for the next few days, until we reach New Dallas." 

"What kind of doctor?" the girl asked. She was clearly unimpressed by him and his infirmary.

"I guess I'm more or less a general practitioner," Simon said after a moment of hesitation.

"You don't know?" Evangeline asked.

"I was a surgeon, until I joined the crew of _Serenity_."

"The crew of what?"

"Oh, this ship, her name's _Serenity_."

"Is she serene?"

Simon smiled softly, "Not usually."

"It's a dumb name."

The doctor felt oddly offended by the girl's observation. He'd had similar thoughts regarding the ship's name in the past but _Serenity_ was slowly becoming home, and her crew family. He didn't really feel passionate enough to defend the Firefly, but on the other hand, he didn't like hearing a word against her. 

"What would you name a ship, if you had one?" Simon asked.

"Are you trying to be my friend?" Evangeline asked suspiciously.

Simon wasn't sure how to answer that. "I'm trying to make you comfortable. If that, to you, implies friendship, then, yes: I'm trying to be your friend."

"But you won't make me better," the girl said with a note of finality.

"Probably not," Simon said sadly. "I'm not even sure what's wrong with you."

"I'm sick," the girl said. "I've always been sick."

"Does your sickness have a name?"

"I don't know," the girl said snappishly. "You're the doctor."

Simon starred at her dumbfounded for a second before he was rescued by Kaylee breezing into the infirmary

"Yer up, Doc," Kaylee said, her voice was not nearly as chipper or playful as it usually was.

"I'm up?" Simon asked cautiously, turning away from the fragile little girl towards the far sturdier young woman. "What exactly . . ."

"Doctor Tambarino," Mrs. Kubat said. She entered the room like one would enter a grand ball, head held high, chest out, expecting a soft gasp from the starring crowed at the splendor of her appearance. Kaylee, who was just smiling at Simon the way she always smiled when she was half furious, half amused at a situation, didn't gasp. Simon, who knew his fear of Mrs. Kubat was largely unfounded, but feared her anyways, didn't gasp, but he did stare. Evangeline smiled and seemed to brighten up, as much as her complexion would allow, at the sight of her mother. 

"Mama," the girl said joyfully.

"How is my daughter?" Mrs. Kubat asked, clearly talking to Dr. Tam. Evangeline's smile disappeared. 

"I honestly don't know," Simon said, noticing the young girl's reaction. "Why don't you ask her?"

"She's only a child," the woman said. "You are a doctor."

"She has a larger basis of comparison to work with," Simon said. "I've only been observing her for a matter of hours. She knows how she feels now, and how she's felt in the past. At this point she's far more qualified to give you an answer."

"So she's conscious?"

"You can clearly see she is," Simon said with an unusual tension in his voice.

"Does she have an appetite?"

"I don't know," Simon said with a frustrated sigh. He turned to the girl, "Evangeline, are you hungry?"

"Do you have soup?" the little girl asked, clearly thrilled that she was being given attention.

"Sure," forgotten Kaylee said, stepping away from her place by the door. "We got soup. Tomato and Chicken broth wi' Stars."

"She doesn't need soup," Mrs. Kubat said, her voice low and threatening. "Her dinner is prepared."

"Oh, it ain't no trouble," Kaylee said. "I's not every day ya get ta go up in a ship, might as well make it special."

"Mama, please, can I have tomato soup?" the little girl practically begged. 

"It's nothing but red powder and hot water," Mrs. Kubat snapped. 

"Than it couldn't possibly do any harm," Simon said simply. 

Mrs. Kubat shot the young doctor a spiteful look, Simon felt cold all over, but didn't back down. "Kaylee," he said, turning to the young mechanic. Seeing her smile warmed him back up. "Why don't you go make Evangeline a cup of tomato soup?"

"Right away doctor," Kaylee said, giving him a smile that made him feel like he was a sort of hero, defender of sick little girls. Unfortunately, that feeling dissipated as soon Kaylee left the room and he was alone with the icy Mrs. Kubat.

"You shouldn't have done that," the woman said with cold fury. "I am her mother."

"And I'm her doctor," Simon insisted, calmly but firmly. "And as far as I've seen there's no medical reason Evangeline can't have a cup of soup."

"Evangeline is under a very strict diet," Mrs. Kubat said, scanning the infirmary obviously looking for something. "Your cook was bringing down Evangeline's dinner."

"Kaylee's actually the mechanic," Simon said. "If your daughter had a special diet I really should have been notified of it much earlier."

"What does it matter?" Mrs. Kubat asked. "Her diet's no concern."

"Yes it is," Simon said. "Her diet is extremely important."

"Oh here it is, Evangeline, dear," Mrs. Kubat said, walking over to the counter near where Kaylee had been standing and picking up a bowl with a cloth over it. "Ready for dinner?"

"Can't I just have soup?" the girl pleaded.

"If you finish this you can," the lady said, slipping the cloth off the bowl and exposing the girls dinner. It was nothing but a white mush that smelled slightly like a fish market. Simon was hard pressed to think of a less appetizing meal and felt, with a fair amount of certainty, that the poor girl would not be able to eat all of the pasty meal.

"Mrs. Kubat," Simon said firmly. "I feel that Evangeline should be allowed to drink her soup regardless of whether or not she finishes that," he looked at it and his stomach turned, "meal."

"You are not her mother."

"I am her doctor," Simon insisted. "Unless you can give me a sound medical reason for her to eat that and not the soup than I'm going to have to insist . . ."

"You are an insolent young man!"

"Your daughter needs to eat," Simon insisted. "No one has given me any clue as to what is wrong with her and, quite frankly, her symptoms match those of malnutrition."

There was a loud crack. Simon staggered and stars danced before his eyes as his hand flew up to his cheek. She'd slapped him. The very idea was almost as shocking as the hit had been. 

"Wha's goin' on?" Kaylee asked, stepping cautiously into the infirmary.

"Get out," Mrs. Kubat said, her voice sharp and hard.

"No," Simon said. "You're going to get out Mrs. Kubat."

"Why you . . ." she gasped, her face was becoming red and there was a slight tension and trembling in her body.

"Please, Mrs. Kubat," Simon said. "Don't make me call Jayne."

"He wouldn't . . ."

"Aw, Jayne would," Kaylee said, stepping further in and walking towards Simon. She had a stemming mug in her hand that smelled more or less tomato-y. "An' he'd probably really like ta, truth be told."

"I was under the impression that this ship was at least somewhat civilized," Mrs. Kubat said, clearly setting up an insult.

"What gave ya that idea?" Kaylee asked with a decidedly uncivilized snort.

"Please," Simon, ever the bastion of civilization, said. "I want to help your daughter and I don't feel I can do that with you here."

"You will regret this," the woman said with a hushed fury.

"Evangeline won't," Simon said, following her to the door and closing it behind the woman in a gesture of finality. Of course, he knew he'd have to go out there, and soon. There was the matter of his dinner, not to mention Kaylee's, and since there had been fewer children than implied, he didn't need to sleep in the infirmary, so he'd have to go out if he wanted to go to bed. Come to think of it, he'd have to go out if he wanted to go to the bathroom. "That was a very foolish thing to do," he muttered to himself. 

"It was brave," Kaylee asserted.

"What just happened?" asked the little girl, who in all practicality had been forgotten.

"You get ta have soup for dinner," Kaylee said, handing the girl the cup of steaming red broth. "If ya like I kin go up stairs 'gain an' fetch some crackers."

"Could you?" Evangeline asked with such gratefulness and excitement in her voice that Simon couldn't help but feel a little heartbroken. And he could tell from the small tremor of sadness Kaylee's voice, when she said "Sure, no problem at all," that the mechanic felt exactly the same way.

* * *

River was praying in the great temple. All around her the city was burning, she could taste the smoke. But here she was safe. Athena would protect her. True, Athena had been on the side of the Greeks, the devious, murderous, Greeks who had been hiding in that horse. Why had no one seen it, why had no one believed her? This was her fault, River knew. If she'd only found a way to love Apollo than this whole catastrophe would have been avoided, she would not have been cursed, people would have headed her many, many warnings. 

Her hands trembled as she prayed, prayed as fervently as she ever had before. She knew her prayers were falling on deaf ears, but she had to pray, she had nothing left.

That's when he came in. She felt him first; there was a prickling feeling as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and a chill rushed over her limbs. She knew he was coming, what he would do, even before he flung open the doors to the most sacred place and his cruel laugh echoed off the pillars and ceiling of the temple, she knew. She kept praying. Her city may have been abandoned by the goddess Athena, but surely she would not be. 

When his thick arms warped their way around her waist and pulled her from her position of supplication, she reached out and grabbed the only thing she could: the sacred image of Athena. As he dragged her, his blue hands bruising her soft flesh, his vulgar words overpowering her cries and pleas, she did not let go of the sacred image. Even as he bound her, tying the ropes as tightly as he could, reveling in the fallen weakness of the great prophetess of Troy, River held on to the image of Athena. She could not let go of the only hope she had, she could not let the evil go unseen by the Goddess of Wisdom. Maybe her cries had gone unheard but no one could remove a sacred image from a temple unnoticed. The goddess would see this, she would bring down her wrath and her vengeance on the blue handed Ajax and his death would be a horrible one indeed. 

Through the pain of the night River tried to remember this, she tried to revel in it. But there was just so much pain. 

* * *

The scream woke everyone up. It was the sound of pure terror, of unimaginable pain. It was terrifying and made those who heard it more inclined to run away than to run and help. Unless, of course, the hearer recognized the voice that produced that scream, as Simon did.

"River," he said very very softly, his blood turning cold. He jumped out of his bed and fumbled out of his room. He didn't notice the various Kubat's peeking their heads out of their quarters as he rushed to the infirmary. He didn't notice Inara and her worried expression as he ran past her, he didn't hear her say his name. All he could hear was River scream.

"What's that?" Evangeline asked when Simon stormed into the infirmary. She was sitting up on the bed, looking nearly frightened enough to scream herself.

"It's nothing," Simon said quickly, grabbing his med kit. "Go back to sleep."

"Doctor, don' lie ta the girl," Mal said. He had appeared in the doorway to the infirmary and was blocking Simon's way.

"Captain, please, you know . . ." Simon said quickly as he made his way to push past Mal.

"That Kaylee got hurt while tryin' ta fix up Nara's shuttle," Mal said pointedly before stepping aside. "An you gotta get up there."

"Right," Simon said, looking gratefully at Mal before running out of the infirmary.

"Is that Miss Kaylee screaming?" Evangeline asked obviously concerned.

"Ah, no," Mal said, taken a little aback by the hauntingly beautiful child. "No," he said with a little more confidence. "That'd be the ghost, screemin'. Kaylee probably got hurt 'cause she was startled and dropped somethin'."

"Captain Reynolds," the ever near-racking voice of Mrs. Kubat said. "Did you just tell my daughter that there is a ghost on this ship?"

"Yes I did," Mal said, turning and smiling at the woman as well as the troop of little boys behind her. "You wanna hear the story?"

"Yeah!" the boy who Mal'd seen tagging along after Jayne all day, Robby, said. 

"Absolutely not," Mrs. Kubat said firmly. "We will not listen to horror stories and nonsense."

"Oh, this story is absolutely true," Mal said, giving her his most honest face. "Now I know stories a ghost and such are usually nothin' but, exaggerated tellin's a things never happened," he chuckled, "As ya kin hear, our story's true as kin be."

The screaming, which had been sporadic for the past few minutes, suddenly stopped. There was a moment of absolute eerie silence. 

"Better ta hear it and know why the poor girls screemin' even after she died 'n all than just stew and wonder," Mal said softly, not quite braking the silence.

"Tell us the story," Evangeline pleaded in a whisper.

"Yeah," Albert or Thomas (Mal wasn't sure) added, his voice was also hushed. 

"Please," Little Felix begged softly.

Mal looked at Mrs. Kubat, asking with his clear blue eyes to entertain her children. She didn't exactly give him permission, but, sighing in clear disgust, turned dramatically and headed back to her room, leaving the kids with the good Captain and whatever story he was going to tell.

"Well," Mal said, a little bit louder, letting a wave off shivers flow down his spine. "Guess that was as much a yes as anything else. Why don' you boys go make yerselves nice and comfy out there in the common room."

"I want to hear the story too!" Evangeline insisted.

"Don' worry, little Miss," Mal said, "I ain't planin' ta leave you out." He walked over to the girl and gently picked her up. She struck him as far too light, but he forced himself not to be concerned. She'd been sick for quite a while; it was only to be expected. 

"Mal what's going on?" Inara asked, peeking through the infirmary door as Mal carried out the weak little girl.

"Nothin' ta fret over," Mal said, smiling pleasantly at the Companion. "I was just gonna tell these kids the story a the ghost what's makin' so much racket."

"Do you think that's wise?" Inara asked.

"I admit, tail kin get a bit suspenseful at places, but I'm sure it ain't nothin' a bunch a brave kids like these can't handle."

"What about Simon?" Inara asked.

"Aw, he's off takin' care a Kaylee."

"Kaylee?"  
"Yeah, she was fixin' yer shuttle when the screemin' started. Dropped somethin' on her hand. Ain't got all the details myself, but I'm sure Simon'll see to it everythin's all right."

"Yes," Inara said, feeling no more comfortable, but allowing herself to sit down on the stairs next to the common room. "I'm sure he will."

To be continued . . .


	6. Telling Tales

"Can you tell us the story now, Captain?" Robby asked, a little impatiently.  "Please, sir?"

                "Right," Mal said, taking a deep breath, "the ghost story. Now, this all happened a bit ago, but not so long.  It started out like any normal trip fer us on _Serenity. We were headed from Persephone to Boros, a trip of a couple days.  We had a mess a passengers too, remember that 'Nara?"_

                "Quite clearly," Inara said cautiously.

                "One of your passengers died?" Evangeline asked, wide eyed.

                "Hold up here, the story's getting' ahead of itself a bit," Mal said.  "We did have a mess a passengers.  Ah, there was this married man go to visit his wife's sister on Boros, he was a real odd ball, 'meber him Inara?"

                "Not so much," the companion said, feeling this lie was sounding a little too true.

                "And a doctor,"

                "Doctor Tambarino?"  Evangeline asked.

                "Naw," Mal said casually, "Didn't pick him up till later.   There was some other passengers, Can't remember quite clearly.  What I do remember, though, was this girl."

                "How old was she?" Evangeline asked.

                "Bout seventeen, I think.  That right 'Nara?"

                "As far as I know," Inara said.

                "Paid her fare in cash, had no luggage and this haunted look about her, right?  Like she thought someone was followin' her.  She didn't say nothin' ta anyone, stayed locked in her room as much as could be done.  Then, bout a day in ta the trip, a flag comes up over the cortex, got this girls picture on it.  Says she's the daughter of some rich dandy an' that she's been kidnapped."

                He paused very dramatically.  The children were hanging on his every word.  Perhaps, more importantly, so was Inara.  

                "What did you do?" Robby finally asked.

                "Well, I went ta her bunk and knocked on her door real polite and asked her what the whole thing was all 'bout.  I did no more'n mention the cortex and she bursts in tears.  Turns out her family'd been plenty rich when she was born, but her pa was a real dunce when it came ta money and squandered the whole a the family fortune.  So, pa'd practically sold her ta this man, this .  . . ugly, cruel, blubberus, rich old man.  Was the night before the wedding and she'd begged her parents ta call the thing off, but they had none a that.  So she took all the cash she could find and ran away.  She'd used up the last a her money to buy the ticket on _Serenity, an' she'd have nothin' waitin' for her on Boros._

                "Well, that didn't hardly seem right, so I told the girl I'd see if I could line her up some work, in a factory or maybe on a ranch.  She was real grateful, poor kid just wanted a chance ta live her own life, ya know, not be under the rule a nobody."

                "This doesn't sound like a ghost story," Albert interjected.

                "Will ya hold up a minute," Mal asked, annoyed at the young boy.  "I'm getten ta the ghosty part.  We'd reached Boros, glidin' through the atmo.  Now, we, that is ta say the crew of _Serenity and me, believed that we were the only ones seen the alert.  We were wrong.  The man I mentioned before, man goin' ta see he sister-in-law.  Well somehow he'd seen the notice and decided he was gonna collect himself the nice fat reward.  He confronted the poor girl, told her what he knew, said he was gonna take her back ta her father.  She screamed and tried ta run up an' get me, knowin' I'd protect her.  But thing is, passengers ain't lowed ta wonder the ship, not without an escort, so she didn't know the catwalks y'all saw when ya walked through the cargo bay.  She tried runin' up the stairs and she slipped.  She screamed as she fell down them steeps, the most horrified scream I'd ever heard.  That is, she screamed until her body hit the landing, where her neck snapped.  She died right there, in a heartbeat, weren't nothin' no one could do.  Weren't exactly murder, so 'thoritys on Boros didn't charge the gent with anythin' they just took her body an' shipped it off ta her pa.  But her spirit's still here.  Sometimes, usually when there's new passengers, she screams.  Don' know if she's doomed ta fall down that staircase till the end at time or if she's just waitin' and 'tends ta move on.  But she's sure as hell here now."_

                The children looked at Mal with a mixture of wonder and terror in each set of blazing blue eyes.  They believed every word of his story without question and would, undoubtedly, think twice every time they went up or down a staircase on _Serenity.  _

                "Well, our ghostly lady's stopped her screechin' a good long while ago.  An' it's much later than any respectable kid should be up.  Of ta bed with the lot a ya, Captain's orders."

                The boys grumbled a 'yes sir,' and slowly lifted themselves off the floor so they could file themselves into their rooms.  

                "You, little miss, I should put back 'for anyone misses ya." Mal said, picking up Evangeline and carrying her into the infirmary.  "Doc'll be back soon, no doubt, and might wonder where his little patient's gone."

                "Was that story really true?" the girl asked as he laid her down on the bed and pulled a blanket over her.

                "As true as not," he said.  "Now get some sleep.  I hear tell you're sick.  Don' want you gettin' any worse on account'a me."

                "Yes sir," the young girl yawned.

                Mal took a second to smile at her, before turning and exiting the infermary, sliding the heavy metal door shut behind him.

                "That was quite a story, Captain," Inara said softly, walking up to Mal.

                "Well, gotta tell 'em somethin'" 

                "I take it you're going to go and debrief the crew on the ship's ghost."

                "Probably ought'a."

                "Yes, well," Inara said very softly.  "It was a very good story."

                "Thanks," Mal said, just as softly.

                There was a heavy pause as the two looked at each other, finally Inara turned away and started towards her room.

                "Good night, Captain," she said, sounding very official.

                "Night Ambassador," Mal replayed with a sigh.

*   *   *

                "'Bout time you showed," Jayne spat at Simon as the Doctor rushed towards Inara's shuttle.  "I thought yer sister was supposed ta be smart.  Don't she know 'nuff ta keep quiet when she's hiddin' out?"

                Simon ignored him and appealed to Wash, who looked more tired than anything else.  "What's going on?"

                "Zo and Kaylee're in there," Wash said with a long yawn.  The sound of a dull thud, like something heavy hitting Inara's carpeted floor, could clearly be heard over the screaming.  Simon winced at the sound, the pilot was too sleepy to waste energy with reacting.  "Don't sound like their doin' much good, though."

                "So she's not hurt?" Simon asked, not really relived by this information.

                "She's well enough ta throw cups an' plates at us when we tried ta get in there an' keep her quiet," Jayne said.

                "Yeah," Wash said, the memory of the flying dinner ware rousing him a bit.  "Be careful, she's got this thing where men can't go in."

                "Men can't  . . ."

                "Screeched somethin' about no man seein' the bloody bed," Jayne said, shaking her head.  "Yer sister's totally whacked."

                Simon didn't have an answer or a defense.  "Well, thanks," he said, taking a deep breath and stepping forward into the shuttle.  

As he entered he could hear Wash calling, "Tell Zoë I'm goin' back ta bed!"

                The shuttle looked more or less like it usually did, with the exception of the tin cups and plates that were scattered around the door, flung by River to keep the men from seeing the Companion's bed.  Zoë was standing at the foot of the bed, her hand's over her ears to block out River's unbearable screech.  Kaylee, much braver, was kneeling on the bed, trying to talk to River, who was curled up in a ball, blankets kicked aside and tangled around her, screaming wildly.  

                It took Simon a heartbeat to suss up the situation.  In the next heartbeat he ran over to the bed, crawled over it, and wrapped his arms around River before she could offer much resistance.  "River, River!"  He had to yell into her ear, to be heard over her wail.  "It's ok, it's all ok.  You're safe.  Calm down.  River!"

The sound of his voice seemed to work wonders. She stopped screaming and started gasping for breath and trembling.  

Simon turned to Kaylee.  "Get me a blanket," he said. "One I can wrap around her."  
                The girl nodded and rolled off the bed, looking for something more practical than silk sheets.  Zoë, having removed her hands from her ears, walked carefully around the bed, watching how the doctor handled his sister.

"River, why were you screaming," Simon asked softly, holding his sister close, petting her hair, trying to keep her from trembling too violently.

                "Ajax," River said.  It sounded like she was about to cry.  "He took me and he had me and no one could help me.  I prayed and she didn't care, she didn't hear.  It burned, everything burned, but they didn't listen to me," she was working her way into hysterics again.

                "Shhhhh, shhhh," Simon soothed.  "That's just a story," he said.  "That book, it's just filled with stories.  It's not real, it didn't happen."

                "Agamemnon is going to die," she muttered.  "Klytemnestra will kill him and kill me.  Why didn't Athena let me die in Troy?"  She broke down into tears.  The baffled doctor could do nothing but hold her and whisper soothing words into her ears.  She didn't seem to hear them.

                "Here," Kaylee finally said, handing Simon a thick velvety blanket.  "Sorry took so long, guess Nara don't often get cold."  

                "Thanks," the doctor said, taking the blanket and wrapping it around his sobbing, trembling sister.  

                "What was she talkin' about?" Zoë asked, once the situation seemed to have calmed and River appeared to have been subdued.  "An' why wouldn't she let a Wash or Jayne in the room?"

                "I, ah, I'm not sure," Simon said uncertainly.  "That book she's been reading is a collection of the Ancient Greek Writings, epic pomes and plays.  The names she's been saying, Ajax, Agamemnon, Klytemnestra, they're all characters in the story of the Trojan War.  I think she had a nightmare about it."

                "So that book is giving her bad dreams," Zoë said, looking over to the large volume which was lying on the floor, open, binding up.  "Maybe she shouldn't be reading it."

                "I'd hate too . . ."  Simon started.  

River, in a very clear and coherent voice captured everyone's attention, "The book is wrong, or we're wrong.  Phryxis is in Penelopy's bed.  Atalanta stands without Hippomenes. An Eriny is beautiful.  But Klytemnestra kills Agamemnon, Klytemnestra kills Agamemnon, that's true, that's true, that happens.  Then she kills me.  I'm next . . ."             

                "River," Simon said.  "They're stories, they're not real."

                "How can you say that?" She asked, truly baffled.  "You have the golden fleece."

                "You know there's no such thing as . . ."

                "You touch people with your fleece and they get better," River said, smiling as if Simon were the one who couldn't tell reality from fantasy.  "But not me.  Apollo cursed me.  The Gods you can't . . . you can't refuse the Gods.  You try and you seal your own fate," her voice had the notes of hysterics in it.  "But the Gods, they don't let that happen.  Fate is fate it doesn't change.  The Gods have spoken, the lot is cast.  We walk through the book and the words are printed and we think we're writing them but their solid, they can't be changed . . ."

                Simon pulled his sister a little closer to him.  "Shhhhh," he whispered.  "Shhhh, it's all right."

                "Ya know," Kaylee ventured.  "Maybe I should make some tea or somethin'.  Think that'd calm her down?"

                "I don't know if giving her hot water would be a good idea right now," he managed to throw her a soft smile, "But I'd appreciate some."

                "You two got her under control?" Zoë asked, yawing.

                "I think so," Simon said, distancing himself from River a little.  

The girl was muttering to herself reciting myth after myth where mere mortals tried to cheat fate only to have prophecies twisted and their lives ruined by their own efforts.  "Oedipus, Oedipus committed patricide without knowing it.  Fate made it so he had to, he didn't have a choice.  He was cursed and he didn't have a choice, there is no choice . . ." 

"Shiny," Zoë sighed.  "I'm goin' back to bed.  Don't forget ta clear out before too much longer.  Don't want the _gan__ bu Kubats ta know 'bout her, 'bout this."_

                "_Dang dang," Simon said, stroking his sister's hair.  _

                "Hippomenes is waiting for you," River called, clearly talking to Zoë.  "He always will.  It's his fate."

                Zoë glanced at Simon, inquisitively.

                "Don't worry," he sighed.  "It's a good thing. I'll explain later."
    
                    Zoë nodded and walked out leaving _Serenity's three youngest residents alone in the plush room.  _
    
                    "Here," Kaylee said after a moment, handing Simon a cup of steaming tea.  
    
                    "Thank you."
    
                    "You want some River?"

                "Phryxis don't!" girl screeched, reaching out and trying to spill her brother's tea before he could drink it.  Simon, bewildered, instinctively leaned back, letting some of the scolding liquid slosh onto his hands before Kaylee was able to reach over and take the cup away from him, out of River's grasping reach.

                "River," Simon said, shaking his slightly burnt hand, an almost scolding tone in his voice.  "What do you think . . ."

                "Don't you recognize her?" River whispered to her brother, staring at Kaylee with a fearful expression.  

                "River, it's Kaylee," Simon said, glancing apologetically at the mechanic.  "You know Kaylee."

                River nodded, "Furiae an Eriny."

Simon looked at his sister, absolutely horrified.

"It's a disguise," River continued with an accusatory tone. "Pretty face, pretty hair, but I see, I have the book, I know the stories."

                "What she call me?" Kaylee asked, trying not to be hurt.  She had no idea why what River said was an insult, but both the Tams seemed to feel that it was a pretty bad one.

                "It's not  . . ." Simon started explaining awkwardly to Kaylee, before River interrupted him.

                "Daughter of darkness," River offered helpfully.  "Attendant of Hadies.  You hunt and you pursue.  No mercy, no rest.  A cruel heart finds joy in pain."  
                "River that's enough," Simon said forcefully.

                "Maybe I should go," Kaylee said, pushing her hair behind her ears as her eyes scanned the floor.

                "Kaylee . . ." Simon started, before turning to his sister.  "River apologize."

                "She follows fugitives, gives them no peace," River said arguing her case.  "She fills Phryxis' mind, gives him pedestrian dreams."

                "What?" Kaylee asked, glancing up at Simon.

                The young doctor glanced back at the mechanic and tried to say something.  He couldn't find any words.

                "It's true," River said very matter-of-factly.  "He wants peace but he can't have it.  You tempt him and torture and . . ."

                "River stop," Simon said sharply.

                "I read the book," River said softly, more to herself than Simon.  "You won't believe me, but I know it's true."

                "Simon?" Kaylee insisted.  "What'd she call me?  An' what she mean 'pedestrian dreams'?"

                "Kaylee, I'm," he struggled.  Kaylee starred at him, her expression somewhat hard and expectant.  "I'm sorry, but this probably isn't the best time."

                The mechanic nodded, a scowl twisting the corners of the mouth and the eyes that were so often smiling.  "Sure," she clipped.  "I guess I'll see ya tamarra."  She lifted herself off of the bed with grace, and turned around slowly, all physical signs pointed to her being totally composed.  But every step she took further away from the brother and sister, every step she took where Simon didn't call her back, she felt more and more tears of hurt and furry well up behind her eyes.  By the time she reached the catwalk she was taking heaving breaths and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

                Simon watched her go, his mouth open, his mind searching for some thing to say that would make the girl feel better.  He had absolutely nothing, which made him feel twice as guilty about what River had said then he'd felt before.

                "River," he said softly, his eyes still on the door, "Why did you . . ."

                "She's evil," River said with a quiet conviction.

                "She's not," Simon snapped, turning his attention to his sister. The girl winced at his small flash of anger, Simon suddenly felt overcome with guilt. "I'm sorry," he said, reaching out and putting his hand on her shoulder.  She shrugged it off.

 The doctor closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued with a gentler tone of voice. "We both know that Kaylee is not evil," Simon said reasonably.

                He sister glanced away and shrugged noncommittally.

"Why are you saying those things?  Why did you call her a Fury?"

The girl muttered something incomprehensible.

"River?"

                She turned to look at him.  There were tears in her eyes, "You look at her you feel happy," River said, her voice was hard and defensive.  "You look at me you feel sad."

                There was a horrible pause.

                "River that's not true," Simon finally said, reaching out for her.

                She scooted out of his reach. "It is."  

                "River, I love you."

                "That doesn't change anything," the younger girl asserted. 

                "I don't know what to do," Simon confessed.

                "It doesn't matter," River replied.  "Fate has spoken. You don't have a choice."

To Be Continued . . . 


	7. The first attack

                Over all, Mal hated having the Kubat's on board.

                Mrs. Kubat was a commandeering _wu__ po who had no shame in ordering him about as if she owned __Serenity and he was just renting it.  The kids were constantly under foot.  The oldest boy, Robby, was Jayne's new shadow, which created all sorts of difficult situations because everything of any consequence Mal need to say to Jayne was something that Mal didn't want a prefect's son to hear.  Wash was spending a lot of time with the Albert and Thomas, which really didn't concern Mal that much, only that Zoë was getting annoyed with the marked decrease in her husband's maturity level.  And when Zoë got annoyed with Wash, Mal got to sit listen as his firstmate vented her frustrations.  But since the youngest Kubat, Felix, was always in either the Kitchen or the common room, she'd corner him in one of __Serenity's narrow hallways and he'd stand there, being a supportive friend, wishing he could sit down.  _

                Kaylee, his little ball of sunshine, was in a real snit herself.  Something, he didn't know what, had happened the night River woke them all up with her screaming.  She was making a point of avoiding Simon.  A very obvious point.  The doctor got the point, that was clear.  He stayed in the infirmary all most all day, only coming out for meals and sleep and to pester the captain.

                "Sir, I need your advice," the young man said softly and nervously.  Mal glanced around.  The kitchen was empty except for the two of them.  He couldn't help but wonder if the fugitive life was building a habit of paranoia in the young doctor.  And if that was the case, Mal thought it was probably for the best.

                "Go on," Mal said in a normal tone of voice.  Simon could be paranoid about many, many things, but he shouldn't be paranoid about his captain; that would lead to nothing good.

                "I'm worried," Simon said as he made up two plates of what Kaylee had prepared for the crew's dinner.  Kaylee, however, was long gone.  Simon wouldn't have shown his face if she were around.  "About Evangeline."

                "Thought you said she's getting better."

                "That's the problem, Captain; she was never sick."

                "What you talkin' bout?" Mal said, worried by the doctor's serious and concerned expression.  "She's all small and skinny."

                "She was being starved," Simon said, again speaking very quietly.  This wasn't paranoia, Mal realized, it was precaution for when one of the Kubats suddenly but inevitably appeared in the kitchen.

                "You're saying her mother was . . ."

                "Yes," Simon said.  "That's why I won't let the woman in the infirmary."

                "And quite a thorn in my side that is too," Mal said.

                "I'm sorry captain," Simon said, clearly sorry about how Mrs. Kubat had behaved, not about his choice.

                "Yeah, well, ain't yer fault, son," Mal sighed, patting the boy on the shoulder.  "You got ta do what's right by the girl.  I understand that.  Ain't no problem."

                "But what about when we dock?" Simon asked.

                "When we . . .?"

                "We're scheduled to dock in New Dallas in two days.  Evangeline will go back to her mother's care and . . ." Simon was obviously troubled by how that sentence should have ended.  He moved on. "As it is she's suffered permanent developmental damage, her bones and muscles will never . . ."

                "Doc," Mal said, drawing the boy out of his medical spiral.  "What would you have done in yer ER?"

                "We had social workers who took over in child abuse cases."

                "We could jump on the Cortex, find us a . . ."

                "They'd need to see my credentials, Mal," Simon said.  "No reliable service would take me seriously unless they checked out my history. Especially if I accuse a Prefect's wife."

                "Then that ain't an option."

                Simon was silent, the way he often was when he was forced to deal with the consequences of his fugitive state.  

                "What about Alliance Docs?  Could you talk to one of them?"

                "I doubt they'd trust me without viewing my credentials.  They'd probably want to see them regardless."

                "Hold up," Mal said softly.  "What about her brothers?  Why is it that only the one girl is sick?"

                "I think, and this is my unqualified opinion, that Evangeline is the only child who's taken ill because she is the only girl."

                "Why should that matter?" Mal asked.
    
                    "There's a certain type of psychosis, I vaguely remember it from my 'Introduction to Psychology' class at Medacade. A mother feels threatened by her daughter and wants to keep her under control.  As long as Evangeline was weak and helpless, she wasn't perceived a threat."

                "_Gan__ xiee mu qin da han she!" Mal spat. "The girls thirteen; she was never a threat."_

                "I know," Simon said softly.

                "Kay, doc," Mal sighed.  "I see you're situation an' I don't pity you.  I'll figure somethin'."

                "Captain I didn't mean for you to . . ."

                "Simon," Mal said, looking the frightened doctor in the eyes.  "I kin take care a this.  We ain't gonna sit by an let a little girl die, and we ain't gonna hand you over ta the Alliance."  

                "Thank you, Mal," Simon said.  He looked a little less afraid.

                "Now, go take care a that little _tian__ shi," Mal said kindly.  "I'll hunt ya out soon as I think a somethin'."_

                "Yes, sir," Simon nodded gratefully before turning down the hallway towards the infirmary to bring the half-starved little girl her supper.
    
                    Mal grabbed the plates he'd prepared and headed in the opposite direction of the young doctor.  As he wandered over the catwalks towards his room, his mind played with various ways to keep little Evangeline safe without compromising the compassionate doctor.  The most obvious solution was to alert Prefect Kubat to the abuse.  But, Mal wondered, what kind of husband and father would be ignorant of that kind of goings-on?  A better husband and father, Mal mused, than one who knew of it and permitted it.  Sadly, Mal couldn't venture a guess as to which category of neglect Mr. Kubat fell into. The man was so reclusive he made hermit crabs look like social butterflies.   But the few time's the Prefect and the Captain had met, the encounter had made Mal's skin crawl.  There was something unwholesome about the man.        Of course, this Kubat cloud was not without its silver lining, having the damn Kubats around guaranteed him some quiet time with Inara every day. 

                "Hey," Mal called down through his open hatch.  "I got food."

                "Finally," Inara said as she appeared below him.  She was wearing her pink dress with a low v-neck and Mal had to struggle to keep his eyes on her face as he starred down at her.  "I was about to send out a search party."

"Ran inta Simon," Mal explained.  "Boy had ta chew my ear a bit."

                "About Kaylee?"

                "No."

                Inara sighed, "His loss. What's for dinner?"

                "Pork chops, potato dumplings and stewed apples."

                "Really?" Inara asked with a chuckle. 

                "Well," Mal said, lowering down a tray with two meals on it.  "That's what would be for dinner if we were a great deal richer than we are.  But I think with a little imagination and some pepper the protein ration could have a definite pork chop . . . essence."

                "I see," Inara laughed, putting the tray down on Mal's bed.  "And I suppose you think with a little salt the starch balls could be confused for dumplings."

                "I would like to say, in my defense," Mal said as he climbed down the ladder, "That the apples, at least, I wasn't lyin' about.  I opened the can myself."

                "I'm sure they'll be delicious," Inara said graciously.  

                "If ya like I can pull out some of Kaylee's wine.  Then we'd have ourselves a right gourmet meal."

                "Captain," Inara gasped with feigned shock, "If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to seduce me."

                "Now, that ain't my line a work," Mal answered.  "I'm just a simple man tryin' ta be nice ta a pretty lady."

                "If that's the case, I'd love some wine."

                Mal bowed dramatically for Inara, "Your wish is my command," he said.  She laughed and rolled her eyes.  

                "Now, to be technical, I ain't exactly sure if this is really wine," Mal said as he knelt down and pulled a clear glass jug full of deep red liquid out from under the bed.  "Does wine have ta be made from grapes."

                "Not as a rule," Inara said cautiously.   "Why, what's that made out of?"

                "See, that's the thing, I ain't sure," Mal admitted.  "Kaylee gets a peck a whatever fruits cheapest at every port."

                "I see," Inara said, watching Mal pour the crimson liquid into two tin mugs.  "Well, I dread the day that the cheapest fruit is bananas."

*   *   *

                "Hey baby," Zoë said, going up to Wash, who was climbing down the ladder, and giving him a kiss as soon as his boots hit the deck.

                "Hey," he said, a little stunned, as she pulled away.  "What was that for?"

                "Fer bein' you," Zoë said, smiling at him in her mysterious way.

                "Gee," Wash said stepping further into the room and unstrapping the black vest he had on over his flight-suit.  "I should be me more often."

                She laughed and shook her head.  Her thick mahogany hair danced around her shoulders and her deep dark eyes twinkled. "You're always you, makes it easier fer me ta love you."

                "Not that I'm complaining," Wash said, trying to keep the excited giggles out of his voice as she started unbuttoning his flight-suit.  "But what's with the sudden boost of Wash-appreciation?  I mean, I thought you were a little _bu__ kuai.  Thought you thought I was regressing."_

                "You are regressing."

                Wash sighed, "True, I am regressing."

                "Well, I was upset," Zoë admitted with a sigh, "But then something made me realize that if you weren't the kind man could keep a pair of _nan__ sheng out of trouble and out of my hair for the better part a four days, I just wouldn't love ya as much."_

                "Well," Was said, struggling to shed his flight-suit in the middle of a series of passionate kisses.  "I'm glad I could be of service." More kissing.  "Is there, ah, anything else you need me to do?"

                She laughed, "Oh, yes."

*   *   *

                "Gorramn it," Kaylee muttered.  She shook her hand in pain and then stuck her thumb in her mouth.  This was not the most medically advisable way to treat the small burn she's just given herself.  She knew that.  And a very petty and self-destructive part of her reveled in that idea.  If Simon knew that she was just sticking her hand in her mouth instead of going to him and getting a cooling antibiotic cream and band aid put on it he'd  . . . well, he wouldn't be furious, really, he'd probably be more bewildered.  Still, he wouldn't be happy.  And, even though she had no intention of ever telling him about her little burn, she enjoyed the fact that he'd be unhappy with her.  This was a bold act of defiance, almost like spitting in his face, only with more pain in her thumb and him never knowing it'd happened.

                Tears were welling in her eyes.  She told herself it was because her thumb hurt.  "Gorramn it," she muttered again.

*   *   *

                 It was late, later than it felt.  And Inara was a little tipsy, tipsier than she should have been. This last batch of Kaylee's mystery wine had been fairly strong.  Thankfully, she really didn't need to have her wits about her to find her way to River's room. 

                When Mal put his mind to it he could be a truly charming gentleman, Inara thought with a smile.  He'd kept her amused for hours telling her stories about various adventures he'd had while trying to commit the simplest crimes.  She'd laughed so hard she'd cried.  

                It was nice, she thought, to be able to enjoy a night with a man and not have to be a 'companion,' not to be obligated to force whatever chemistry existed to spark.  Not to have to turn good-natured conversation into passionate embarrasses.  It was nice to have some quiet after talking to a charming man, to just feel contentment.  She loved her job, she loved the excitement, she loved the mystery, she loved the constant challenges.  But sometimes, it was nice to see the man do all the work.  In her mildly intoxicated state Inara made a promise to herself that she would make a point of spending more time with Mal.  Talking to him, not bickering but talking, was better than meditating, she mused as she walked through the kitchen.  

                It occurred to Inara that a cup of tea would be nice.  She hummed softly and tunelessly to herself as she set up the kettle and flipped through the assortment of powdered teas.  She often wondered why tea bags were so much more expensive than powdered teas and powdered coffee.  It seemed to here that the same amount of tea leaves would be needed to produce a batch of powdered tea as were needed to make an equivalent amount of tea bags, and the tea bags would require less manpower.  It didn't seem to make sense.

                She'd have to ask Mal, Inara thought with a smile. That seemed like the kind of thing he would know, and even if he didn't know it he'd have something witty to say about it. 

                "Is that you, Ms. Inara?" asked a thick voice the companion didn't recognize.

                She glanced up and saw a large figure she didn't recognize in the doorway, heading up from the passenger area.  For a second her heart jumped into her throat as she thought there was an intruder, some horrible violent stowaway on _Serenity.  But then her brain caught up with reality and she recognized Prefect Kubat. Because she was a little drunk, it didn't accrue to her to worry too much about how those eyes were looking at her._

                "Good evening, Sir," She said, smiling at him in her companion way.  "I was making some tea, would you like some?"

                "Perhaps later," the man said.  "Where were you?"

                Inara laughed, "That's a very forward question."

                "I don't want to appear rude," he said.  He was walking around the counter slowly and purposefully.  "I was just curious."

                "I was with Captain Reynolds, if you must know," Inara said.  "We had dinner."

                "You dined with him?" The prefect asked. He was leaning in the entrance to the kitchen area.  Inara was glad he hadn't come in; there really wasn't room between the lockers and the counter for more than one person.  

                "He brought me my dinner, yes," She said. 

                "You told me you ate alone."

                Inara was starting to feel a little uncomfortable.

                "And you told my wife that you would not service crew or passengers."

                "I was not servicing Captain Reynolds," Inara said louder than she meant to.  

                "Why not?"

                "Mal?" she asked, exasperated.  "Are you kidding?  First of all, he couldn't afford me, second . . ."

                "I mean, what reasons do you have for not servicing passengers?"

                The tone of his voice was very unnerving.  Inara tried to convince herself that the fear she was feeling was due more to Kaylee's wine than any actual danger she was in.

                "Serenity is my home," she said.  "I don't work at home."

                "I would very much like your company, Miss. Inara," he said, stepping into the kitchen.   Inara realized that the fear she was feeling had nothing to do with Kaylee's wine.  The companion took a deep breath and thanked the Academy for its very complete training. 

                "I'm afraid that is quite impossible," Inara said sweetly.  "The water is done, would you like some tea."

                "I'm willing to pay three times your regular fee."

                "Sir," Inara said forcefully.  "Not only are you married with children, but we are presently sharing a very small ship with them.  Even if I did not have reestablished directives prohibiting servicing passengers, I would refuse you out of respect for your family."

                "My family," he laughed.  "You've seen my wife and . . ."

                "And she is your wife," Inara said solidly.  "Any troubles you have with her can only be made worse by any interaction with me."

                "I am not accustomed to being refused."

                "And I am not accustomed to being harassed," Inara said.  "Now sir, if you could please step aside, I want to go to bed."

                "You know you play at being a lady," He said, taking a step closer.  

Every muscle in Inara's body tensed, "I am a lady.  The question now is, are you a gentleman?"

If she hadn't been a little drunk she probably would have been able to duck in time.  But her reflexes were not all they could be and so the best she could do was roll with the slap.  Still, he had enough force behind it to send her crashing into the counter to her right, which caught her sharply in the ribs.  She gasped, and fell on her knees.  

                The prefect grabbed Inara's arms and dragged her to her feet before she could even catch her breath. He slammed her against the opposite counter, breathing heavily on her and squeezing her arms so tightly that her fingers started to tingle.

"_Biao__ Zi," he spat. "There are things I need."_

"_Dao di yu!" She said between clenched teeth as she reached slightly to her right, where the kettle full of boiling water was sitting. She managed to get a grip on the handle and ignored the pain of the hot metal on her soft, unprotected flesh. With all the strength she had she forced her right hand free and flung the kettle on his face._

He screamed, surely loud enough to wake everyone in the passenger dorms. His hands flew to his face and he staggered backwards. But Inara couldn't think about that. All she could think about was that this was her chance to get away. She turned and ran. 

She'd been told that some men believed they could sexually assault a companion. Some men thought that just because she sold herself, they could buy her. She'd even heard the impassioned speech of such a victim. But she'd never, never believed that it could happen to her. 

She was trembling all over when she opened the door to her shuttle. She could barely hold her hands still enough to activate the lock. And when River spoke she let out a little scream before she caught herself.

"You're hurt," the girl observed.

Inara allowed herself a few shaky gasps and endeavored to collect herself. "I'm fine."

"Brave Penelope," River said as she handed Inara the soft velvety blanket. The girl was shaking her head as if she understood the situation perfectly.

"Thank you, River," Inara said uncertainty, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. 

"Odysseus will come home," River continued compassionately, obviously trying to calm Inara down. "You'll be together. It's fate. And all this won't matter."

"That's kind, River, really," Inara said, she was starting to cry. "But I don't think . . ." the Companion's thoughts trailed off as a scowl appeared on the young girl's face. "What?"

"No one believes me," River said simply before turning around and curling up on the bed. 

Tired, though she had been, Inara couldn't possibly have slept. She lowered the lights in the shuttle and walked over to the couch where she could sit in the darkness.  She wasn't hurt, she was just scared.  But it was a cold, gripping fear that seemed to freeze everything inside of her.  Even now that she was safe, the fear was still there; she didn't know how to get rid of it.  And in the darkness, where no one could see her tremble, she secretly wished that River's ramblings had been a prophecy, that someday someone would come and make all that fear not matter.

To Be Continued . . . 


	8. By way of Explanation

"So," Wash said, taking a deep breath of the sweet musky smell of her neck.  "You mind tellin' me what reminded you that you loved me?"

                "I never forgot I loved you," Zoë laughed.  

                "Yeah, but still," Wash insisted.  "I need to know who I can thank for this sudden turn around in your disposition.  I'm thinking about sending them a thank you card."

                Zoë laughed again.

                "You know, somethin' plain, 'Your kind words meant a lot to me . . . they got my wife in bed.'"

                "Oh, be quiet," Zoë said, nudging his gut with her elbow.

                "No, seriously, what changed your mind?" He said, kissing her neck as added incentive.

                "Well," Zoë sighed.  "If you must know. . . ."

                "_E o!" Wash moaned, "I'm dying to know."_

                "It was River."

                "River?" Wash asked, pulling himself away from his wife just a touch so he could look at her with a somewhat critical eye.  "You're taking romantic advice from a seventeen-year-old whose idea of a coherent sentence is 'Two by two with hands of blue.'"

                "That would be the River."

                "I suddenly feel less confident in your critical judgment skills."

                Zoë laughed again, "How about if I told you the good Doctor Tam inspired me."

                "Slightly more assured," Wash said, kissing her right behind her ear.  "Although the fact you can't tell the difference between the brother and sister is still concerning."

                Zoë sighed contentedly and rolled over so that she was looking her husband in the eyes.  "'Member couple nights back when River was screamin' like a banshee?"

                "Not easy to forget," Wash said gamely.

"Well, when I was in there she started talking crazy,"  
                "The girl is nothing if not consistent."

                "She was sayin' that all these things happened in that big old book she's been readin' were real, were happenin' ta us."

"I hope her book has a happy ending."

"Sometimes it do, as it turns out," Zoë said, running her fingers up and down her husband's arms.  "For instance, she called you Hippomenes."

                "A hippopotamus?"  Wash asked.  "I know I'm not as buff as Jayne or gangly like Simon but . . ."

                "No," Zoë laughed.  "That's a character, in her book.  I'd been meaning ta ask Simon 'bout it but boy's been so busy with that sick girl."

                "And the continually difficult task of avoiding Kaylee," Wash added.

                "That too," Zoë chuckled.  "But I got my chance today."

                "And?  Why am I a hippopotamus?"

                "It seems that Hippomenes was a prince who fell in love with a beautiful warrior princes named Atalanta."

                "A warrior princess, hum?  I like this story already."

                Zoe giggled a little, then continued with the story, "But this girl, she liked being a maiden, being able to run off in the woods and hunt all day."

                "I can see the appeal," Wash conceded.

                "So she swore off men.  Said she wouldn't marry any man who couldn't beat her in a footrace."

                "Clever girl."

                "Not clever as Hippomenes.  He went through a host a tests and trials so he could get a batch of magic golden apples."

                "Ah, apples."

                Zoë laughed again, "And when he had his foot race with her, every now and then he'd throw an apple off to the side and she'd chase after it, so he'd get ahead of her, then she'd catch up and he'd throw another apple and she'd go after it, and so on till he won."

                "And they were married?"

                "Atalanta wasn't going to break her word."

                "Because he threw apples, wasn't that cheating?"

                "Guess not."

                "And did they live happily ever after?"

                "Very much so."

                "I like that story."

                "Me too."

                "So River thinks your Atalanta?"

                "Seems so."

                "And I'm the hippopotamus?"

                "Yes," Zoë chuckled.

                "Well maybe that girl's only half crazy," Wash said, leaning forward so he could kiss his beautiful warrior princess.  He was interrupted by a banging on their door.

                "We're asleep," Wash muttered.  "We don't hear it."

                "Zoë," Mal's muffled voice yelled through the door.  "Wash, I need you."

                "We're not that heavy of sleepers," Zoë moaned, pulling away from her husband.

                "We could be if we tried," Wash said, not letting go of her hand as the rest of her body slipped out of bed.  "Who knows, maybe we were drugged?  Maybe the vents in here don't work and we asphyxiated on the CO2."

                "Well then I'd better go tell Mal all about it so he can have Kaylee fix them vents," she said slipping her hand out of his as she walked over to the ladder and pressed the button to open the hatch.  "Yes sir?"

                "Hate ta interrupt ya," Mal said.  His voice was tight and he looked nervous.  "But we got us a situation.  I'd appreciate it if you both could join me in the common rooms as soon as you're ready."

                "Of course sir," Zoë nodded.

                "Oh, and, ah, you ain't seen 'Nara recently, have you?"

                "Inara sir?"

                "Naw, 'cours you wouldn'a," Mal muttered.  "Just move it along, quick as ya can."

                "Yes sir," Zoë said, closing the hatch as the captain walked away.

                "He said quick as you can," Wash observed.

                "That he did," Zoë said, grabbing some cloths to put on under her robe.  Between the roaming eyes of Jayne and the multiple Kubat men Zoë didn't want to show off more of herself than absolutely necessary.

"I just could not, under any circumstances, get up there in less than . . . Oh, two hours at least."  
"Baby," Zoë scolded, grabbing the edge of their blanket and pulling it aside.  

"Hey!" Wash said, suddenly freezing.  "Tryin' ta give me a heart attack."

Zoe glanced at her husband noncommittally and threw him his pajama pants.  "Up and at em, ya lazy old hippo."

*    *    * 

                "Kaylee, what's the news?"  Mal said very softly.  The whole of the Kubat family was in the infirmary (Simon had graciously allowed the prefects wife in the room so long as she didn't touch anything) so Serenity's crew stood conversing very quietly in the common area, looking nervously and suspiciously through the windows.

                "She's gotta be in the shuttle," Kaylee said, her childlike brow knit with very unchildlike worry as she stood close to her captain. "She ain't anywhere else, been lookin' fer over an hour. 'Sides it's locked from the inside now."

                "Did you knock?" Book asked.

                Kaylee nodded, "Weren't no answer," she said softly.

                "Why exactly do we need to find Inara again?" Zoë asked.  "She didn't attack the Prefect."

                There was a weighty silence.  

                "Did she?"

                "Good Pa Kubat says that Inara was drunk," Mal said.  "He spoke ta her respectful and fer no reason he can see, she attacked him.  Probably thought he was tryin' ta make a pass or some such.  Leastways, that's what he figures," Mal said.  

                "What's Inara care?" Jayne muttered, obviously resenting the fact he'd been dragged out of bed.  "Ain't like a Prefect couldn't pay."

                "Jayne," Kaylee gasped, clearly horrified. The hours of searching had obviously worked on the girl's nerves.  She was jittery and nervous and looked like she was about to burst into tears.

                "They'll be none a that," Mal snapped at his mercenary.  "We all know 'Nara and we all know she's got more tact than all us here put together.  She could talk her way outta most any situation, drunk or not."

"Was she drunk Captain?" Book asked.

"I don't see how that matters one way or another," Mal insisted.  "We gotta get her outta her shuttle, we gotta make sure she's all right, an my gut tells me she ain't. But, once we find her, if you wanna ask her 'bout her blood alcohol level, well, then, I guess that's your prerogative."

"Have we tried hailing the shuttle with the comm?" Wash asked.  "I mean, I know it's obvious but . . ."

                "We sent a message, no one answered," Mal said quickly.  "First thing we did."

                "Why don't we just break inta the gorramn boat?" Jayne demanded.  "We could pry that door open easy."

                "I'd rather not," Mal said.  "Beyond the fact I'd have ta fit the shuttle with a new door, Y'all've done a nice job a makin' them boy's feel ta home.  Which means they ain't gonna just accept they can't be there when we do somethin' as excitin' as break open an air lock.  There gonna get tetchy an' their ma's gonna get tetchy and their pa's gonna get tetchy and then we got a whole passel a alliance blue bloods wonderin' what we're hiddin'  or worse, discoverin' what we're hiddin.'"

                "River," Kaylee said softly.

                "'Xactly."

                "She could open it," Kaylee said, glancing to the captain.  "From the inside."

                "Ain't we sposed to be hiddin' her?"  Jayne asked.

                "Maybe 'Nara don't want us in there," Kaylee said, glancing at Mal with uncharacteristic timidness, as if she were afraid to speak loudly.  "Maybe she's hurt or scared or somethin'.  But if we could get Simon ta talk ta River over the comm, she'd do what he asked."

                "Can she?"  Zoë asked.  "Would she know how?"

                "Doc said she's _gao__ ming, how hard can picking a lock be?"  Wash asked._

                "That ain't a half bad idea," Mal said softly.  "We'll be wantin' Doc to look after Inara anyways, make sure she's all right." He glanced through the windows.  "We gotta get the boy outta that room."

                Clapping and rubbing his hands together, the Captain took a deep breath.  "Zoë, Wash, you get the comm set up.  Jayne, Shepherd, you stay here with the family.  Keep'em in the Common area an kitchen, no one's left unsupervised.  Kaylee you're with me."

                "What we gonna do, sir?" Kaylee asked a little nervously.

                "We're gonna pull Simon out, then break in on Inara and River."

                The girl looked hesitant and nervous, "Cap, I don' wanna . . . ."

                "I ain't askin', Little Kaylee," Mal said very seriously.  "It's late and I was woke up ta find one a my passengers assaulted and one a my crew suspect.  I'm in no kind of mood for you ta be a little girl in a lover's spat."

                "We ain't . . ." Kaylee started, one sharp look from Mal quickly hushed her.  "Yes sir," she muttered.

                "Well then, come on," he clipped, walking towards the infirmary.  He could hear her following him and felt just a little bit better.  It was illogical, of course, to think that she was in danger.  Every person on the ship, with the exception of Inara and, possibly, River, was accounted for, and Kaylee was certainly not in any danger from Inara or River.  There was no unknown dark shadowy figure to accost the young mechanic.  But his laxness had already set Inara up for God-knows-what kind of assault.  He wasn't going to risk letting Kaylee out of his sight.  

When Mal opened the door to the infirmary and entered as dramatically as possible.  All eyes were on him, which was exactly what he wanted.  If he was in command of the moment he was more likely to keep his command of the situation.

                "Doc, how's the patient?"

                "Hairline fracture of the cheek bone, very painful but not serious.  Second degree burns on the face that could cause scarring, still, easily treatable."

                "You much needed here?"

                "Ah, no, sir," Simon said.  "I think I've done all I can do."

                "Then you're with me, we're gonna go check on Inara."   

                "No!" Mrs. Kubat said, stepping away from her maternal post to the left of her husband, with her worried children clustered around her.  She was wearing an elegant black silken robe covered in embroidery which was, Mal guessed, about as expensive as his entire wardrobe.  It was very impressive as it flowed behind her, very dramatic.  Of course, it couldn't hide the fact that she had a decidedly sexless flannel nightshirt on under it.  "That harlot attacked my husband."

                Mal's jaw tightened and his glare became less gracious and more determined.  Simon and Kaylee shot each other worried glances, the first communication they'd had in almost three days.

                "She did, ain't no question," Mal said, his voice made it clear that he was furious at the Kubat's but all that anger was well capped.  "An we're gonna find out why."

                "Damn _Biao__ Zi was drunk!" Prefect Kubat muttered, although half his face was anesthetized and his speech was slurred.  _

                "Be that as it may, she ain't in the habit a throwin' kettles in men's faces." 

                "I demand . . ." Mrs. Kubat started.

                "I don't much care what you demand," Mal said with perfect calm.  "I am the captain, you are my passengers.  I decide what is best for the ship and her crew, that's what a captain does. It's my job.  You're job is ta sit tight and wait till we get ta New Dallas."

                "How dare--"

                "I dare," Mal continued his temper never rising above icy, "Because, as previously stated, I am the Captain, _Serenity is my ship.  You chose to ride on her and, when ya did that, you chose to put yourself under my rule.  Once we get ta New Dallas it'll be different, I understand that.  But here, on this ship, I'm in command."_

                No one dared answer.

                "Fine then," Mal said, taking a deep breath and relaxing a little.  "My crew's been right generous in lettin' y'all have the run of the ship.  But tonight, in light a what's happened, I'm gonna ask you to limit yourself to the infirmary, the common area, the kitchen and your rooms.  Shepherd Book and Jayne'll be hangin' round ta see that you respect my request."

"Are we prisoners now?" Mrs. Kubat asked in a huff.

"Ya ain't prisoners," Mal asserted.  "Just folks who are bein' kept outta the way of those doin' some work.  All yer needs have been attended too, so you got no call to complain."

                "I'll decide if I have a right to complain," Mrs. Kubat asserted.

                "Guess that's true," Mal mussed.  "I just got no call ta pay you head.  Doc, come on."

                Mrs. Kubat turned her furious countenance towards the young doctor, as if she expected his loyalty in this situation. "I just have to get my med kit," Simon said, brushing past the aristocratic woman to pick up his compact red case before following Mal and Kaylee out of the infirmary.

                "Is Inara badly hurt?" Simon asked with concern as the trio exited the common area and started through the cargo bay.

                "Don't rightly know," Mal said. 

                "You . . .?"

                "She's locked herself in her shuttle," Kaylee said, glancing at Simon and then quickly glancing away again.  "Leastways, that's what we hope."

                "What we hope?" 

                "She ain't ta be found," Mal said.  "So either she's locked herself up with your sister or she took a space walk without a suite."

                "Cap'in don' say that!" Kaylee gasped, freezing in her spot.  Mal and Simon took a few steps before they realized that the mechanic was not with them.

                "Come on now, girl," Mal snapped, turning around to look at her.  "We got . . ."

                The mechanic was trembling visibly; blinking furiously, trying to hold a stream of terrified tears at bay. She looked pail, small and weak and Mal found he had absolutely nothing he could think to say to her.

                "Kaylee," Simon said softly and soothingly as he took a step forward.  She didn't shrink back.  "It's ok, you don't have to be afraid.  I'm sure Inara's fine."

                "That man," Kaylee said, tears were streaming down her face.  "What if he really hurt her, ya know, what if she's . . ."

                "Shhh, shhh," Simon said, putting his hand gently on her shoulder.  "Inara's fine," he said with a confidence he couldn't possibly have.  "She's not badly hurt.  If she was she wouldn't have been able to lock herself in her shuttle."

"Doc's right," Mal said, taking a step closer to his terrified mechanic.  "Someone unlocked that shuttle door from the out side, that ain't River's doing, so we know she's in there hiddin'.  And there's no blood, not anywhere.  Not in the kitchen, not on the catwalks, not outside the shuttle.  Got no call ta be so 'fraid."

                "Can't help it," Kaylee choked out. 

                Mal tried to swallow his frustration, "Ain't got time for this, Little Kaylee, we gotta see ta Inara."

                "I know," The girl said, she was practically sobbing.  "I'm sorry."

                "Come on," Simon said, very compassionately, wrapping his arm around her and pushing her gently forward.  

                Mal sighed as the pair went past him and started after them as Simon eased Kaylee up the metal staircase. This was not his best night ever. His ambassador had been assaulted and was now hiding; his passengers were in a snit that could, potentially, lead to serious ramifications with the alliance.  But at least the two dumb kids had started talking to each other. "Shiny," Mal grumbled.  "This is just shiny."

*   *   *

                "River," Simon said passionately over the comm system. "I know you can hear me and I know you can answer."

                There was no reply but static.

                "River, please," Simon pleaded.  "Please answer.  We need to know if Inara's in there.  We need to know if she's all right."

                There was a crackle, as the comm link was established on the other side, and then River's hushed voice.  "Penelope's asleep. Be quiet."  There was another crackle as the comm link went dead.

                "What the . . .?" Mal asked.

                "It's a thing she does," Zoë offered helpfully.  "She says everyone in the crew's part a the story in that big ol' book a hers."

                Kaylee, who was slouched in co-pilot's chair wrapped in a blanket, let out a short gaspy, irritated sniff.

                "What kinda book is it?"  Mal asked.

                "Writings of Accent Greece of earth-that-was," Simon said.  "Plays and epic poems about mythology."

                "An' she thinks Inara's Penelope?" Mal laughed.

                "Why's that funny?" Wash asked.

                Mal was snickering too hard to answer the question.

                Simon took a deep breath; "Penelope is famous for her chastity, staying loyal to her husband.  She had hundreds of suitors after Odysseus was assumed dead. But she waited for him and she was rewarded, he came back.  That's why she wouldn't let you or Jayne enter the shuttle, in the story Penelope knows her husband has returned because he's the only one who's ever seen her bed and he can describe it."

                "An' who," Mal managed to ask between his snickers, "Does River think is Odysseus?"

                "You," Simon said.

                "Wha-who?" Mal said, his chuckles gone.

                "She thinks you're Odysseus," Simon said slowly, an idea clearly unfolding itself behind his blue eyes.  "She'd let you in."

                "Wait, wait," Mal said holding his hands up.  "She thinks I'm Odysseus?  Shouldn't I be someone else? Jason, maybe, or Icarus?" 

                "In her game she's Cassandra," Simon said, ignoring Mal's protest.  "I bet if you call her that, if you say you're Odysseus and you want to see your wife, she'll let you in."

                "Now, who's Cassandra?" Wash asked.

                "Why not you, Doc?" Mal asked.  "Why don't you call her with your Greek name.  Who are you anyways?"

                "She wouldn't let me in," Simon insisted.  "My character, Phryxis, had nothing to do with the Trojan war, Cassandra or Penelope."

                "Why'd she give ya that one?" Wash asked. 

                The Doctor turned to Wash, there was something very serious in his eyes, like he was talking about more than an old story.  "Phryxis rescued his sister from becoming a human sacrifice only to have her fall off the golden ram they were flying and drown in the sea."  
                "Was everything made of gold in Ancient Greece?"

                "Only stuff what was important," Mal snapped.  

                "I already asked River to let me in," Simon said, turning back to Mal.  "My story doesn't cut it, But I think yours will."

                "Doc. . ." Mal started.

                "Sir," Zoë said, "It's worth a try at least."

                "_Jin yuan shen hua gai si," Mal muttered as he stepped up to the comm.  "I feel damn foolish."_

                "It'll work," Simon said encouragingly.  "You're obviously familiar with the myths, you should be able to lead her on, convince her."       

"Did River give you a character?" Wash asked, turning to Kaylee.

                "I da'wanna talk 'bout it," Kaylee said, sniffing and wrapping her blanket a little more tightly around her.

                "I may'a read a ratty ol' copy a the Odyssey when I was a boy," Mal said.  "That don't make me no expert."

                "I can help you," Simon offered. "Besides, this is something she wants to believe.  She won't make it too hard."

                "This does seem to be the best option sir," Zoë said.  "Lot cheaper than having to repair the shuttle door after we cut it open."

                "Fine," Mal said trusty, stepping up to the comm.  "Cassandra, this is Odysseus."

                There wasn't an answer. He glanced at Simon and Zoë, as if to prove that he'd been right.

                "Keep going," Simon urged.  "Talk about Troy."

                "You, ah, you remember me, right?" the Captain said.  His cheeks were a burning red. "We, ah, we met in Troy."

                "You burned the city," River's timid voice came over the comm.  "You killed my family."

                "Yeah, well, those things happen."

                "You let Ajax rape me."

                Mal glanced at Simon.  The doctor's mind was obviously racing to think of a way out of that accusation.  "Ah, tell her that, that's not your fault," he started uncertainly.  "In fact, I think Odysseus had Ajax, ah, stoned for what he did to Cassandra."

                "Cassandra," Mal said, trying to make his voice sound confident and defensive.  "You know perfectly well there was no lettin' there.  As, ah, as I recall we all got together and stoned Ajax for what he done ta you."

                "Who's Ajax?" Wash asked no one in particular.  "'Cause I don't remember stoning anyone."

                "I'm a prophetess," River said defensively.  "I know the truth inside the pretty lie, I've heard the voices inside the hoarse."

                Mal glanced at Zoë and Simon again, clearly annoyed.  "This ain't workin'."  

                "Try bringing up Penelope," Simon said.  "She doesn't open the door after that we can try something else."

                "Cassandra, listen, I don' wanna talk about Troy or the war," Mal said earnestly.  "I'm worried about In . . . Penelope.  Let me in.  You know I got the right."

                "You do," River said softly.  "I can open the door."

                "Thank you," Mal said, closing the comm link.  He glanced around at the crew around him, Kaylee was still a trembling mess, Simon seemed about as concerned as relieved that his plan had worked, Wash was mostly confused and Zoë, as ever, was attentive.  "Well, to the shuttle I guess." 

                Mal turned and left the cockpit, Zoë and Wash followed.  Simon was about to fall in line when he noticed Kaylee, still in her chair, shaking.  
                "Come on," he said gently, walking over to her and putting his hand on her shoulder.  "Inara's fine.  She'll want to see you."

                "What if she ain't?" Kaylee asked, looking up at him with her large brown eyes, made all the deeper by her fear.  "He scares me so much.  Before he did . . . whatever it is he did, he gave me the willies, ya know, like he was bad news.  But I never . . ."

                "Kaylee calm down," Simon said solidly.  "You know that Mal would never let anything happen to you."

                "Ain't scared fer me," Kaylee said.  "I'm scared fer 'Nara.  'Sides, Cap'in didn' let anythin' happen ta her. Sometimes things jus' happin'."

                "Listen," Simon said, brushing a few wisps of her hair out of her eyes so he could look into them.  "I understand why you're scared.  But you can be brave."

                "I jus' keep thinkin' 'bout everything that coulda happened," She said glancing away.

                "We need to go find out what did," Simon said.  "Kaylee, please."

                The beautiful mechanic nodded and let Simon help her out of the chair.  Once they got to the shuttle the doors were open and everyone was inside.

                "Get lost on your way?" Wash asked as Simon led Kaylee in.  Simon's cheeks burned but Kaylee was too relieved to be embarrassed.  

                Inara was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking perfectly composed, if not a little annoyed at the crowed in her shuttle.  The only sign that anything had happened was a bandage wrapped neatly around Inara's right hand.

                "'Nara," Kaylee said, pulling away from Simon and practically running towards the Companion.  

                "Oh _Mei__ mei," Inara said, clearly taken aback by Kaylee's overwhelming affection as displayed in an almost desperate hug.  "It's alright."_

                "I thought you was hurt," the girl said, pulling back from Inara.  Her worry was still painted clearly on her face.  

                "I'm fine," Inara said with a very composed smile.  "I just got spooked."

                "Spooked enough to smash a kettle in a mans' face?" Mal asked, looking at the Companion critically.

                Inara didn't answer and she didn't even look towards Mal. "Kaylee, dear," Inara said, "You don't have to cry."

                "I was just so scared," the mechanic explained. "We couldn't find ya."

                "I'm sorry," Inara said to Kaylee, and then turning to everyone else in the room.  "I really am, I had no idea there was such a devoted search going on."  

                "_Fei__ hua" Mal said, then he ordered, "Everybody out 'sept Nara and the Doc."_

                "What about . . ." Simon started.

                "Yeah, River," Mal nodded.  "'spose she can stay too.  Where is she?"

                "Hiding in the cockpit," Inara said.  "You can clearly see I'm fine so, why is Simon staying?"

                "'Cause there are big bits a you that I can't clearly see," Mal said, looking the companion in the eye.  "You gonna tell me what happened between you and that Prefect?"

                "You don't want to know."

                "Details, no, big picture, yeah."

                "I'm not telling you." Inara said with a cold determination. "Companion's are specifically trained to  . . ."

                Mal didn't let her finish. "Then you're gettin' yerself looked over by the good Doctor.  That's an order."

                "I'm not part of you're crew!" Inara said, detaching herself from Kaylee, standing up and walking forcefully towards Mal.  "You have no right to order me around."

                "You're under my protection," Mal said very, very softly so that no one but her could here.  "I need to know what happened."

                "It's none of your business," Inara spat.

                "What if it'd been Kaylee?" Mal asked very quietly.  

                Inara's bravado faltered.  "I don't need a doctor," she said, a little bit louder, glancing in Simon's direction.  "I have a few bruised ribs and a burn on the palm of my hand.  He couldn't do any more for me that what I've already done."  

                "That sound right Doc?" Mal asked.

                "If her injuries are what she says they are, and I have no reason to suspect that they are not, then she's right.  There're not much more I could do."

                "I'll tell you," Inara said.  "When we're alone."

                "Fair's fair," Mal said.  "Everybody out."

                Simon started to open his mouth.

                "River can stay," Inara sighed.  She turned to Mal.  "I have a feeling she knows the whole story already anyways."

To be continued . . . 


	9. The plan, and how it goes wrong

"So here's the deal," Mal said firmly.  He was standing in front of the infirmary, addressing his passengers, who were sitting in the common room, his crew stood behind him, listening nervously.  "Somethin' happened.  I got my suspicions as to what, but seein' as the whole incident happened between an official registered Companion and an upstanding Alliance Prefect, my suspicions amount to about a hill a beans.  I'm lockin' ya both up fer the remainder a the trip."

                "That is offensive!" Mr. Kubat said, practically jumping up from the armchair he was sitting in.  "I am a government official."

                "Which don't guarantee you're the victim," Mal said icily.  "Like I said, yer both bein' locked up fer the next day an' a half till we reach New Dallas.  Then we'll let the proper authorities sort it out.  'Till then is my responsibility ta keep both you, Prefect, and Inara safe.  You'll be confined ta the infirmary and she's safe in my quarters.  I'll be sleepin' in one a the extra guest rooms ta make sure that nothin' else happens this trip."

                "That's unacceptable Captain," Mr. Kubat said.  "That the _biao__ zi should have the captain's quarters while I . . ."_

                "This ain't a luxury ship, sir," Zoë said sharply.  "The infirmary is larger, better lit and generally cleaner than the captain's quarters."

                "Hey," Mal said, a little offended.

                "Plus you'll be able to be close to your family, see them and they'll be able to see you," Book offered helpfully.  "The Captain's quarters are on the other side of the ship.   This situation just makes sense."

                "Now, Doc's told me little Evangeline's well enough to move to one a the regular passenger quarters, so you'll have the room to yerself.  Naturally, we don't want you messin' with the medical equipment.  But I honestly believe that ain't gonna be a problem."

                "This is very unwise, Captain," Mrs. Kubat said, her voice sending chills down Mal's spine.  "This decision will undoubtedly lead to more problems than you can even imagine."

                "I'm gonna ignore the fact that sounded like a threat on account a it's late an' we've all had a stressful night.  Myself, I only got the patience to deal with one problem at a time. I just wanna keep everyone outta each other's hair for 'nother day and a half till we reach New Dallas."

*    *   *

                "What I mean, Simon," Kaylee said very nervously.  "Is that I'm sorry.  Ain't fair fer me ta get mad at you fer what River said. And it ain't right fer me ta be ignorin' ya like I was.  So I'm sorry.  It's jus', well, I want ta be yer friend so much.  Partly 'cause ya need a friend so much.  I mean, ya look sad even when you smile.  But also cause . . ." words failed her.  "_Chi dai, Kaylee," she muttered to herself.  "Can't even 'pologise ta thin air." _

                She wrapped the blanket she'd been toting since her episode on the bridge more tightly around her shoulders and kicked the kitchen cupboards despondently with her toes, making a sort of hollow thumping noise that perfectly reflected her mood.  The rest of the crew had gone to bed hours ago, exhausted after such an eventful night.  And Kaylee was exhausted too, but not in the same way.  She was weary, but not really tired.  She knew herself well enough to know that, if she tried to sleep, she'd just be plagued by nightmares.  That's what always happened when she felt edgy and broody.  She honestly didn't think she could take a nightmare; a dream where _Serenity was swarming with giant ants that ate the crew in front of her, or where Mal decides having her as a mechanic was a mistake so he drops her at some foreign port and picks up Bester again.  She'd much rather work herself into a state of walking sleep and then collapsing on her bed, too tired to do anything beyond fall into dark oblivion._

                But the more she worked the more she thought about the night and the more she thought about it the less truly tired she was and the more weary she became.  Mostly she was ashamed.  She was ashamed of how _chi dai frightened she'd been.  No one else had been worried.  Everyone else was sure Inara was perfectly fine, not even the preacher had been concerned.  But there she was, worrying herself sick.  And she was ashamed of the way Simon had treated her, because she didn't think she deserve it.  She'd been miffed at him, unfairly, for days, and he turned around and treated her with all the compassion in the 'verse.  She felt weak and guilty and part of her wanted to go dream those nightmares because part of her believed she deserved them after being as pathetic as she had been.  _
    
                    Instead she decided to work out her penance by cleaning the engine, wiping away all the dirt and grime that stuck it self to the oil that kept the engine running smooth.  If you didn't clean out you're engine every now and then, well, then some of that dirt and grime would find its way into something important and gum up the works.  It was an important job, sort of.  I was always low priority, but it always had to be done.  And it was easily the least intellectually stimulating, the most physically trying, and the dirtiest job anyone on Serenity ever had to do: far, far worse then a septic flush or garbage.  It was good punishment, Kaylee thought.  If menial tasks built character, than one good cleaning of _Serenity's engine should take care of one of her character flaws, either her cowardice or, perhaps, her selfishness.  Although, as she stood in the kitchen during her short water break and tried to apologize to an imaginary Doctor Tam, she had to come to the conclusion that she just hadn't cleaned enough of the engine _

                She turned around to get back to work when ghostly from suddenly appeared directly in front of her.

                "Oh!" Kaylee screeched, one greasy hand flying to her mouth and the other to her stomach as she held back a scream.  Mrs. Kubat was standing in the doorway, looking about as pail as death, with a somewhat vicious glair in his eyes.  

Apparently cleaning the engines had built up some moral fortitude, because as soon as she got over the initial shock of seeing the specter-like woman she was able to push forward bravely.  "I didn't 'spect ta see ya, Mrs. Kubat," She said forcing a somewhat weak smile.  "Thought I was the only one up."

                "So did I," Mrs. Kubat said very softly.  

                There was an uncomfortable pause as Kaylee tried to ignore Mrs. Kubat's icy eyes boring into her.

                "Ya want some tea?" Kaylee offered cheerily, trying to shatter the creepy mood that had entered the kitchen with the older woman.  "I been workin' so's I don' really wan' any.  But I'd be happy ta make some for you."  

Mrs. Kubat just stared at her.

                "Or," Kaylee offered, the creepy mood starting to creep into her.  "If ya like I could always, ya know, make yer own."

                Mrs. Kubat continued to stare.

                "Mrs. Kubat, M'ame?" Kaylee said taking a nervous step forward.  "Y'all right?"

                "You should be asleep," the woman said softly.  "Away in your quarters.  Far away."

                "Maybe I should fetch the doctor," Kaylee said, taking another step towards the woman.  "Why don' you just have a seat and . . ."

                "No!" Mrs. Kubat ordered sharply.  Kaylee froze and started to feel a little afraid.  "You shouldn't have been up here," the old woman continued.  She took a step towards the Kaylee, Kaylee took a step back.  "All good little girls are asleep at this hour.  So, that makes you bad."

                "Calm down," Kaylee said, holding her hands in front of her, retreating slowly back towards the hall were the crew quarters were.  Mrs. Kubat followed her step for slow step.

"Ya had a long day, maybe some . . ."

                "You can't help me," the woman said, her voice was low and threatening, Kaylee had to fight the urge to runaway.  "You just have to be silent.  That's the only thing for it.  The bad, dirty, girl needs to be silent."  

                Then, suddenly, with a graceful and deadly quick movement, Mrs. Kubat pulled something long and narrow that reflected the dim light of the kitchen out of the flowing sleeves of her black robe.  The older woman charged the girl with a cool silence that made Kaylee's shriek of surprise and fear seem all the more piercing.  The mechanic instinctively threw her hands in front of her and turned her head, a weak and easily overpowered defensive position. For a fraction of a second she felt pain on her left forearm, but that was quickly overshadowed by the sharp burning consuming pain that exploded at the top of her chest.  Kaylee gasped and screamed and sobbed without realizing it as she sunk to the floor.

                She didn't hear the noise downstairs, the rustling of people woken by her scream.  She didn't notice the black robe glide out of the kitchen.  Her mind was filled with bewildering questions; why had she been attacked, what had she been hit with, why couldn't she get her eyes to focus, why did it hurt to breath, why couldn't she move her arm, and more.  But each question entered her mind and left unanswered, driven out by the throbbing pain.

*   *   *

                "It sounded like it came from the kitchen," Book said as Mal and Simon caught up to him bounding up the stairs.  "I think it might have been Kaylee."

"I know," Simon said.  He had his medkit in hand and his serious-doctor face on.

"I'm almost getting used to be woken up by screams," Mal said.  "There's no end ta how happy I'll be when this trip's over."

                "Can't argue with you there, Captain," Simon muttered. 

                They reached the top of the stairs, rounded the corner into the kitchen and didn't see anything.  The room looked empty.  The only sign that there was anything wrong was a soft whimpering, a combination of gasps and sobs.  

                "Kaylee?" Simon said, pushing his way past the Captain and heading towards the weak sounds on the other side of the room.  He found her hunched, leaning against the wall between the kitchen counter next to the uneven stairs.  She was pale and pain was etched in her deep brown eyes.  A large, sharp, kitchen knife was sticking out of her left shoulder and a very dark red stain was spreading across her greasy coveralls.     

                "Kaylee," he said dropping to the floor. "Are you all right?"

The doctor's voice seemed to draw the girl out of her shock a little, "M' shoulder hurts," She said, staring up at him. 

"Nothing else," Simon asked. "Can you move you're feet?"

"Feet feel fine," Kaylee said, her boots shifting.  "Told ya, my shoulder hurts." 

Mal and Book reached them as Simon put his hand behind her head and was easing her to a reclining position on the floor.  The Shepard quickly went around through the kitchen so he could help the doctor from the other side.  Mal stood over them, watching with foreboding.  

                "Kaylee, can you move you're fingers," Simon asked, glancing up towards Book, "Take her hand," he ordered.  The Shepard did as he was told.  "Kaylee, Kaylee," Simon said forcefully, keeping the girl's attention through sheer force of will.  "Squeeze the preacher's hand. Can you do that?"

                "Squeeze the preacher's hand," Kaylee muttered.

                "She's squeezing," Book said.  "But not with much strength."

                "Good job," Simon said, very carefully touching the area around the wound, as he tried to figure out just how deep the knife was and what it'd hit.  "You're going to be just fine Kaylee.  Just try and be calm."   

                "You gonna pull it out?" Mal asked.  His voice was thin and tense.

                "No," Simon said.  "Not yet."

                "I tried ta take it out," Kaylee slurred.  "But it hurt."

                "I bet," Simon muttered softly before looking up at Mal.  "Whoever attacked her was obviously aiming for her heart.  But I'm guessing she was able to deflect the stab somewhat, that's probably how she got the cut on her arm there.  Right now the knife is embedded in her muscles, but it's keeping her bleeding down, still I'm going to have to move her to the infirmary."

                "Not an option," The captain said.  "Got a rapist in there. Can you do it here?"

                "Ahh," Simon glanced around the room.  The procedure was not a complicated one; the knife had ripped through some muscle, all he really had to do was stitch her up.  "Yes, but I'll need a few things."

                "Right," Mal said.  "Shepard, stay here, keep 'er calm and keep 'er awake."

                "I can do that," Book said.

                Mal hit Simon on the arm, "Kay son, lets go fetch the band-aids."

                "Right," Simon nodded as he pushed himself onto his feet.  

                "Don' leave," Kaylee begged, reaching out to the retreating Simon with her right hand.  

                "I'll bring 'im right back ta ya," Mal said as Simon hesitantly walked through the door.  "No worries, Little Kaylee, You'll be just fine." 

                Once they were both running down the stairs Mal managed to ask "I didn' just lie ta that girl, did I?"

                "What sir?" Simon asked.  He was clearly lost in thought; Mal hoped it was thoughts about the procedure he'd have to perform in a few minuets.

                "Kaylee will be fine, won' she?"

                "Of course," Simon said.  "You know as well as I do that the main danger of wounds like that is infection and blood loss.  The wound shouldn't be hard to clean.  True, she's already lost blood and will undoubtedly lose some more as a result of the procedure, but not too much.  She'll be fine."

                Mal nodded as the hit the bottom of the stairs and entered the common area.  "I know it, still, nice all the same ta hear a bona fied doctor say so."

                "Kaylee will be fine," Simon reiterated.  

                "Did something happen to Miss Kaylee?" Evangeline asked.  

                Both Mal and Simon froze for a second, shocked by the presence of all five of the Kubat children sitting on the couches and the chairs, looking at the men expectantly.  

                "Ahhh," Simon stuttered, before Mal gave him a push on the back.

                "Go get what you need, Doc," the Captain said, looking at the children.  Simon nodded turned and stepped toward the dark, locked, infirmary while Mal took a step closer to the kids.  "Nothin' much," he answered.  "Why you all up?"

                "The ghost woke us up," Robert informed him.  "Did you hear the screaming?"

                "Yeah, I did," Mal said.  "Ya know, I'm starting to think the Ghost don't much like Kaylee.  Every time the dead girl screams our poor little livin' girl gets hurt."

                "Did Miss Kaylee ever . . ." Evangeline started. Before the doctor's terrified voice cut her off.

                "_Huo__ keng," Simon gasped as he flipped on the lights to the infirmary. _

                "Stay there," Mal ordered the children so sternly that not even Jayne would think of disobeying, before he turned and walked to the door of the infirmary.  "Doc, what is . . . ?"

                Simon was standing near the light switch, stunned.  Mal felt the shock run through him for a second, then blinked a few times and forced himself to look away from the corpse of Prefect Kubat.  The man had been stabbed, more times than Mal cared to count.  The infirmary was drenched in the prefect's blood.

                "Doc," Mal choked out.  "We gotta help Kaylee."

                "He was brutally murdered," Simon said, blinking a few times and forcing himself to look away, look towards his Captain.  "While we were sleeping, someone was killing him."

                "The same someone who stabbed Kaylee," Mal said, his mind started racing as he thought of the only real suspect.  There was so much to do, he had to tackle it one task at a time.  "Tell me what ya need.  You gotta help . . ."

                "Kaylee," Simon said, coming to himself.  He nodded and walked past the corpse to a drawer.  "I need to prepare the dope. Will you grab the IV holder and an IV bag of pseudo-plasma?  They're over there, furthest draw to the right."

                "To the right," Mal said as he walked past the corpse as if it wasn't there.  He considered trying to close the eyes or, maybe, covering it with some sort of sheet.  But that would be a mistake.  The Alliance would want to see this; they would have to see this as it was.  Technically they were already tampering with a crime scene; Mal didn't want to make it any worse.

                "And if you could grab a clean sheet, to put on the table, do you . . .?"

                "Got it," Mal said.  "You ready?"

                "Yes," The doctor answered.  In one hand he had a loaded dope gun, In the other a pile of bandages and a spool of surgeon's thread with a needle poked into it.  He'd put on his apron and his gloves and looked professional and confident, not at all like he'd discovered a mutilated corpse a few seconds ago after a fistful of hours of troubled sleep.

                "Than let's go," Mal said.  

                Simon nodded and exited, not even bothering to glance at the children as he hurried back to the kitchen.  Mal turned off the lights to the infirmary, and then locked the door.

                "What happened?" Robby asked, still obediently perched on the couch.  "Is everything alright?  You're lucky you didn't wake Dad."

                Mal starred at the kids and wondered how in the world he could possibly ever tell them that their mother murdered their father.  

                "Captain?" Evangeline asked nervously.

                "Go to bed, the lot a ya," Mal ordered.  "In the mornin' Shepard an' I'll sit down with ya, 'splain some things.  But talkin' ain't gonna do a thing but upset you tonight.  So just, go ta bed."

                "Yes sir," Robby said, standing up and looking sharply at his brothers and sisters.  "You heard the Captain."

                The boys filed into their quarters silently under Robby's sharp eye.  Evangeline, with almost graceful weakness, followed them.

                "Have a good night Captain Reynolds," she said, before slipping into her room.

                "Good night," Mal replied, forcing a sort of a smile.  Then, once all the doors had slid shut and all the lights were off Mal turned and started heading to the kitchen, to drop of the supplies.  After that, for the second time that night, he was going to have to rows the crew and order a search of the ship in hopes of finding the woman who'd assaulted Prefect Kubat.  

                "A good night," Mal muttered again to himself.  "This sure as hell ain't."

*   *   *

                Mrs. Kubat had the rather unusual talent of being able to pick locks.  As an aristocrat, a politician's wife, it had been an unused talent.  But as she lied in her bed and contemplated what her husband had done, not only solicited a companion, but assaulted one, she realized that the only thing keeping her and her rage from him was a locked door.  A locked door she could easily unlock.

                And as she tried to figure out how to make good her escape she realized that the only thing that there was a shuttle the Companion used to do her business in, a luxurious shuttle that would, no doubt, be the most comfortable place on the ship was a lock; a lock she could easily pick.

                She threw the door open to shuttle-one and discovered the plush interior of a Companion's studio.  The woman smiled, a little, and then hurried in.  Finally, something tolerable on _le se boat.   She'd chosen it because she'd needed to be able to control the ship the way she could control the household.  A large ship would have a strong captain, she'd assumed, so a small ship would logically have a weak captain.  But that's not the way it had been.  A large ship would need a competent doctor, a small ship would, logically, have an incompetent medic.  But that's not the way it had been either.  She'd miscalculated.  Had she thought through it clearly she would have realized that people who chose to live on a scrapper like __Serenity would be the kind of people who were too strong-willed and insolent to get a job on a decent ship.  _

                Still, it had turned out all right.  This would be her shuttle.  She could go anywhere in this.  She could be free of her corrupt husband and her whiny boys and her seditious daughter.  She could truly be free.  She closed the door behind her, locked it again and headed towards the cockpit with a giddiness she hadn't felt for years, since before she'd been promised to her husband, since she was a little girl.  

                But as soon as she saw the many complex controls her giddiness faded.  She'd never had to do anything like fly a shuttle, she had no idea what buttons did what, which dials to turn and what would alert the whole ship to her attempted theft. 

                "Klytemnestra killed Agamemnon," a very soft voice said from behind her.  

                Mrs. Kubat nearly screamed.  She pivoted and saw, lost somewhat in the folds of the curtain separating the cockpit from the rest of the shuttle, the almost angelic figure of River.  Of course, if River was an angel, she'd have been an angel of judgment, because her brown eyes seemed to see right through Mrs. Kubat.  

                "Who are you?" Mrs. Kubat demanded, she couldn't keep her terror out of her voice.

                "I'm Cassandra," River said, taking a step out of the folds of the curtains.  "But I'm not you're husbands lover.  Things aren't adding up, things don't make sense.  It seemed so clear but the words and world aren't the same."

                The young girl's confusion gave Mrs. Kubat a new confidence. She was no angel, she was hardly sane and she seemed easy to manipulate. "Can you fly this?" Mrs. Kubat asked.  

                "Standard configuration, retro-fitted for Firefly docking, short range, dent in the starboard fin inclines the shuttle to the right."

                "You know, don't you," Mrs. Kubat said.  "You could fly this."

                "I'm just a slave," River muttered.  "A prisoner of war.  I used to be a princess.  But that was a long time ago . . ."

                Mrs. Kubat grabbed the girls arm as violently as she could and threw the girl at the shuttle's controls.  River whimpered, but offered no resistance.  "Get us out of here, now, or I'll kill you."  The older woman said viciously.

                "You kill me no matter what," River said as she slipped into the plush pilot's chair.  

                "Do as I say and you'll live," Mrs. Kubat said.  

                "You don't believe me," River mused, there was an incredulous tone in her voice as she started to work the controls, overriding _Serenity's locks and pushing the shuttle gently away from the ship.  "You know what you plan and you still don't believe me."_

To Be Continued . . . .


	10. Tender Kisses, Fulfilled Prophecies and ...

                "Ok," Simon said, putting down his pinchers and picking up the scissors to cut off the remainder of the thread.  "It's done."

                "She'll be all right?" Book asked.

                "Fine," Simon sighed, looking at Kaylee's beautiful, unconscious, face.  "She won't be able to use her left arm for a while, but she'll be fine."  He took a sharp breath and pulled his eyes away from the girl and onto the Shepard.  "We should move her."

                "Maybe we should get the Captain's permission first," Book said.  "We don't know what's going on out there, if they found the person who did this or not."

                "_Serenity's not big," Simon said softly.  "She couldn't have gone far.  Besides, she doesn't know the ship well enough to hide."_

                "You sound like you know who did this."

                "I do," Simon said looking up at the Shepard.  "Mrs. Kubat.  She went mad, killed her husband.  Kaylee must have stumbled into her, maybe seen the blood on her cloths . . ."

                "Did you just say she killed her husband?" the Shepard asked, horrified.

                Simon nodded. "Probably with this knife."

                "Those poor children," Book said with a hushed voice.

                "Well," Simon mused.  "They are now more or less orphans, which is tragic.  On the other hand their father was an inattentive rapist and their mother was a homicidal psychopath.  So who's to say they aren't better off?"

                "Doctor," Book said, a little shocked.  "I never figured you for the judgmental type."

                "I'm not judging them," Simon said, taking off his sanitized gloves.  "But I'm not going to ignore the facts.  Evangeline was being starved."

                "What?"

                "She was being given just enough food to keep her alive."

                "That's why you wouldn't let the mother see her daughter?" Book asked.

                "That's right."

                "And why the girl improved so much under your care."

                "All I did was feed her," Simon said as he slipped his surgical apron off.  "I don't . . ." he started weakly before his voice faltered.

                "Yes?" Book prompted.

                "Children should have good parents," Simon asserted.  "Parent's who love them, who want to protect them."

                "Unlike River's parents?" Book asked.  "And yours?"

                Simon turned away without answering under the pretence of having to wash his utensils in the kitchen sink.

                There was a thick silence, when Book finally broke it he felt like his words were echoing through the whole ship.  "I'm sorry son, I didn't mean too imply that . . ."

                "You don't have to apologize," Simon said, looking up from his fastidious rinsing.  "You're right.  My parents didn't care enough about us to believe me when I told them about River, about the academy."

                "Still," Book apologized, "What I said was cruel, thoughtless.  I'm sorry."

                "If the truth is cruel it's not your fault," Simon said.  "My parents were bad, they just were able to hide it until we were grown and could understand exactly how little they cared.  At least these kids are still kids; they'll be able to adjust."

                Book opened his mouth and considered asking Simon what exactly the boy meant by that, if he didn't feel as if he or his sister had properly adjusted to the actions of his parents; actions that the Shepard could only label as abandonment. But it had been a long night and every sign pointed toward it being an equally long day. "Maybe I should find the Captain, make sure that everything's all right to move Kaylee," Book said after a moment.  "Then I could go talk ta the kids, see what I can do."

                Simon nodded, "Good, I'll stay with her 'till you get back."

                Book nodded and walked out the door leading towards the cockpit, closing it behind him.  Simon sighed and started making a pot of coffee.  He had a feeling that soon it would be in high demand.  As it peculated Simon walked back to the table and stood over Kaylee, looking at her dirty face, stroking her grubby hair.  She should be wakening up soon, he knew.  He didn't want her to think for a second that she was waking up alone.

                He smiled down at her as her eyes started to flutter open, "Hey there, Kaylee," he said sweetly, slipping his hand into hers now that she was awake.  "How do you feel?"

                "Kinda like I'm glowin' inside," She said, smiling back up at him unabashedly. "Don' spose I am, though."

                "You always seem to be glowing inside," Simon said kindly.  "But I did give you a healthy dose of pain killers, if that's what you mean."

                "The world looks fuzzy," Kaylee observed.

                "Shhh," Simon said, stroking her cheek.  "You should rest."

                "You're so nice," Kaylee said.  "Even when I'm mad at you you're nice."

                Simon glanced away and swallowed, he was about to apologize for what River had said and apologize for not doing it sooner, but before he could Kaylee spoke again.

                "Burnt my thumb," she said, lifting her right hand up so Simon could see her injury.

                "So you did," Simon said, letting go of her left hand and pulling away from her face so he could hold her right hand and examine the small blister.  "This looks like it hurt."

                "I wasn't thinkin' tried ta pick up the micro-welder 'for it cooled."

                "Why didn't you come and ask for a bandage?" Simon asked, lowering her hand and turning back so he was looking at her face.

                "I want you to kiss it an' make it better," the girl said.

                "Kiss it and make it better?"

                "Yeah," she said, a sweet, innocent, almost silly smile spread across her face.

                After considering her very seriously for a moment Simon nodded, "Alright," he said, pulling her hand up again and giving her thumb a very gentle kiss.

                "Thanks," She said with a soft sort of giggle.  "Feels better."

                Simon chuckled softly, "Well that's the kiss they teach in school.  Guaranteed to work.  Now you really should rest."

                "Ya know," Kaylee said, a little more seriously, but still clearly very, very drugged.  "I've kissed a lotta guys."

                "Have you?" Simon asked, a little uncomfortably.  

                "Yeah," She sighed.  "I like kissin'."

                "Oh," Simon said.  He had to fight his instincts to retreat from this conversation.

                "An' I ain't never wanted ta kiss a guy more'n I wanna kiss you," She said with a sort of clarity that cut through her very drugged state.

                "Kaylee, I . . ." Simon started.

                "An' yer the only guy who's not wanted ta kiss me."

                "Its, its not that," Simon stuttered.  "Not like that."

                "Naw," Kaylee insisted with a kind smile.  "I like it.  'Cause, it's like, kissin' is somethin' ta you.  An' someday you'll kiss me, I mean, really kiss me, when yer sober an' I'm sober, an' it'll be somnthin'.  An' if ya kissed me b'for that, well, it wouldn't be somethin' and I kinda want somethin',  ya know?"

                "You need to sleep, Kaylee," Simon said, running his fingers gently over her temple.

                "Alright," the girl sighed, closing her eyes.  She took a deep, contented breath and let out a soft happy moan.  It was only a matter of seconds before Simon was sure the girl was fast asleep

                "Sweet dreams," the doctor told his patient softly, before leaning over placing a tender kiss on the girl's forehead.  

*   *   *

                "This is it," Wash said, pointing to a more-or-less blueish blip on the space chart.  "This has to be where they are."

                "That a planet or an ocean?" Zoë asked.

                "It's called Poseidon," Wash said.  "It's a fishing colony."

                "Moon must have been covered with ice when they terra formed it," Mal mused.  

                "Makes it easier," Zoë pointed out.  "Can't land a shuttle in water."

                "True 'nuff," Mal said.  "What kinda land they have in the middle of their ocean?"

                "There's thousands of itty bitty islands.  Little things bout a mile long."

                "_Chi dai xing xing," Jyane muttered.  "This could take days."_

                "Naw, Prefects wife in a nice shuttle, she ain't lookin' ta hide out," Mal said.  "She's goin' ta the biggest show in town ta start her new life.  What kind a cities we got, Wash?"

                "Well, there's about thirty assorted fishing villages on various islands, ah, but if were looking for actual civilization . . ."

                "Or some close approximation," Mal said.

                "Then we're looking at the twin cities of Pegasus and Minotaur.  There on the two of the larger islands and connected by bridges.  About six-hundred-thousand people total."

                "Can _Serenity dock?"  Mal asked._

                "Both cities got docking facilities. I'll see what I can do."

                "Good, holler once you find something," Mal said, straightening up and turning to Zoë and Jayne.  "Zoë, I need you to pop on the Cortex, let the big wigs over in New Dallas know that we are going to be a little late."

                "They're gonna wanna know why, Sir," Zoë said.
    
                    "Don't lie," Mal ordered. "But be vague.  Say we ran into some trouble and were forced to land on Poseidon.  If they wanna send a patrol out ta help us they're plenty welcome, otherwise we'll explain everything, as well as deliver the family soon as we can."

                "Yes sir," Zoë said.

                "Jayne, you got a tranquilizer gun?"

                "Tranquilizer gun?" the mercenary asked.  "What's that for?"

                "I'll take that as a no," Mal sighed.  "We need to catch Mrs. Kubat but not kill her.  She's our proof that one a us didn't go crazy an' kill the old man."

                "Do you really think they'll believe us sir," Zoë asked.  "Even if we have the old woman?"

                "We gotta hope they will," Mal said.  "We got nothin' else."

                "Ah, Captain," Book said as he entered the cockpit.  "Is everything all right?"

                "No, everything is all wrong, thanks anyways for askin'," Mal said, his stress showing in his voice. 

                "How's Kaylee," Zoë asked. 

                "She's just fine," the Shepard answered.  "Doc stitched her up.  He wants to move her to her room, but we weren't sure if there was still someone about who might do her harm."

                "No," Mal clipped.  "Ship's safe enough.  All the psychopaths did us the great favor of runnin' away, so's now we gotta chase after 'em."

                "Running away?"  Book asked.  "Did Mrs. Kubat steal a shuttle?"

                "That she did," Mal said with a sarcastic smile, "Bet you can't guess which one."

                "River," the preacher said softly.  "What are you going to do?"

                "Find the murderess alive," Mal said.  "Hope we find the girl the same.  You can tell the Doc it's ok to move Kaylee, fact, I'm sure it's best.  If you could help him with that preacher?"

                "Of course, I don't suppose I could solicit Jayne as well?"

                "Ta carry her?  Fine."

                "Hey, don't I get a say in this?" Jayne protested.

                "Nope," Mal said quickly to Jayne, "Go."

                "Right all right," the large man muttered, pushing his way past Book, who turned and followed, leaving Mal, Wash and Zoë alone in the cockpit.

                "Yeah, ah," Wash said to port control on the sea planet.  "We need to dock, just for a few hours. . . . Gotta pick some stuff up and leave again . . . No, nothing to do with that . . . well yes, I suppose everyone does like saltwater taffy . . ."

                Zoë was very carefully composing her wave to the authorities of New Dallas, "We regret to inform you, no, wait, scratch that.  Unfortunately we ran into some unseen, no scratch that, Unforeseen events have forced us too . . ."

                Mal turned and looked at the stars, the seemingly endless stars, and sighed.

*   *   *

                "Poseidon," River said very softly as she eased the small shuttle down at a short-range ship dock. They were the only space-worthy vessel parked there and River wondered if her Klytemnestra knew just how conspicuous they were.  "He has nothing to do with this."

                "_Zhu kou," Mrs. Kubat snapped.   "I'm sick of your ranting __feng__ zi."_
    
                    "Things look right, but are really all wrong," River said, swiveling around in her chair so that she was looking at Mrs. Kubat.  "Or maybe it's all right and looks wrong."

"If you don't still your tongue I will still it for you," Mrs. Kubat said with a vicious rage in her voice.  

                "With an ax," River informed the older woman.  "You'll chop me up with an ax."

                "I told you to be quiet," Mrs. Kubat's voice was shrill and nerve racking.  It would have made anyone but River's skin crawl.   "I need to think."

"Think," River muttered.  "Think think think thoughts that need to be thunk.  Work so hard to think straight, think in a line, think from point alpha to point zed and no pauses for a foxtrot with Charlie."

"I could sell this shuttle," Mrs. Kubat said, trying to ignore River.  "Live conservatively off the profit."

"People don't like prophets; people don't want to know the future.  They think they do but they don't."

                "Set up in a nice hotel, look for a new husband, a proper husband.  Start a new life."

                "If you know the future, you know something.  If you have the book, have the story, you know your part.  But the parts, they get mixed up.  Phryxis shouldn't have been in Penelope's bed, no, that was wrong.  And Hippomenes saw it.  And the Eriny, you can't . . . you can't kill a daemon."

                "All I'll have to do is get rid of her," Mrs. Kubat said, turning to River.

                "The book doesn't change, the book can't change, but the words and the world, they stopped being the same, or maybe they never were."

                Mrs. Kubat started looking around the shuttle's interior for something to silence River with.

                "If it's written down, if it's printed, then it is, it can't not be.  But what if it's wrong? Then it is wrong. Plato's model of the universe was truth until Galileo and Galileo until Newton and Newton until Einstein and Einstein until Hawkins . . ."
    
                    "Here we are," Mrs. Kubat purred, picking up a large, heavy vase made of thick, carved crystal.  It could easily bash a pretty little girl's head in and shut her intolerable mouth for good.

                "Too much," River whimpered, "Too much truth, her head will explode with lies that are true and truths that are lies.  And the Gods laugh, because that's what they always do.  They give gifts without mercy and the gifts cut like an ax and you bleed and bleed and no one has a bandage and you're infected . . ."

                Her tirade was suddenly seceded when Mrs. Kubat swung the crystal vase not unlike one would swing an ax, and hit River squarely on the jaw.  The girl went flying and collided with the shuttle's wall.  She lay still, dazed for a moment, as Mrs. Kubat took a step closer so she was once again standing over the girl.

                "I told you to hold your tongue."
    
                    "'...the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others...Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.' John Stewart Mill." 

                "If that didn't hurt you enough I'll hit you again."

                "Pain is a neurological indication that there is a physical default.  I know from force exerted, arch, density and point of impact that the vase produced a hairline fracture in my jaw an inch and a half long.  Pain is irrelevant, obsolete."

                "I'm going to kill you."

                Despite the eye watering, obsolete pain in her jaw, River smiled, "See, I told you!  And you didn't believe me!"

*   *   *

                "Found it!" Zoë said loudly.  Mal hurried over to her and looked at the cortex screen over her shoulder.  

                "Looks like they docked not ten minutes ago," Zoë said.  "About two miles from here, short range lot."

                "Great," Mal said, turning away from the cortex and hurrying out of the cockpit.  "We take the mule, hurry on over.  Small town like this, trakin' down a big city girl should be easy as beating Jayne at checkers."

                "Here's hopin'" Zoë said, following him as they hurried down to the cargo bay.  "Wash," Mal yelled.  "We're takin' the mule.  She ready?"

                "Just waitin' on you, sir," Wash yelled back up.  

                "Good," Mal said.  "You're driving.  Once we find the shuttle you fly it back and get it docked."

                "No problem."

                "Jayne, you're with us.  Bring a gun but no bullets."

                "What the hell kind a good is a gun if you ain't got no bullets?" Jayne demanded, even as he detached the clip from his shotgun.

                "It's good for scaring little old lady's is what," Mal said.  "We need her alive, and if we got no bullets in our guns we ain't nearly as likely to shoot her by accident."

                "Aw, Mal . . ."  
                "No bullets!" Mal said again as he hit the deck. "If we don't bring her back alive the Alliance is just gonna assume we killed them both because we're Alliance-hating Independents."

                "Which some of us are," Wash mused.

                "But none of us are murders," Mal said then, glancing at Jayne, amended.  "Well, murders of that man in there.  And today that's all that counts.  Zoë, you hold down the fort.  Handle any official-type communication wave we happen to receive."

                "Yes, sir," Zoë said, nodding to her captain.

                "All right," Mal said, climbing onto the back of the four-wheeler next to Jayne as Wash drove. 

They were almost out of the hatch when Simon came running down the staircase, red med kit in hand. "Wait," the boy yelled.  "I need to go."

                "Hold up Wash," Mal ordered.

                "Aw, Mal," Jayne whined.  "We ain't gonna drag along the doc are we?  First no guns, then him, 's like Canton all over 'gain."

                "You're staying here, Doctor," Mal yelled, not moving to get off the mule.  "Kaylee still needs you."

                "Kaylee is stable and sleeping," Simon asserted as he reached the deck, walked past Zoë and headed towards the mule.  "River's the one who needs me."

                "Look here, Doc," Mal said very seriously.  "This woman we're goin' after, she killed her husband, she stabbed Kaylee, and then she locked herself in a shuttle with your sister.  Now I ain't sayin' the girl's dead but just take a moment and think of how she cast herself in those Greek tragedies."

                "If you find my sister hacked to death I want to be there," Simon said.  His voice was firm, unmovable, his jaw was set in determination.  "River means everything to me.  If she's dead, if she was killed, I think I have a right to see it first hand.  And if not, she's going to need me, you know that."

                Mal nodded, "You're right, hop on."

                "Thank you, Captain," Simon said, climbing on the back of the cart.

                "Wash, move us out," Mal ordered.  

                "'Bout gorramn time," Jayne muttered, glaring at Simon, who seemed to be struggling with holding on to both the mule and his med kit.  

                Mal nodded, "I must admit, each clock tick do seem mighty important."

To be concluded . . .


	11. The whole truth

"I don't know!" River screamed from her position, cowering beneath the shuttle controls hoping to avoid her own, personal, vase-wielding Klytemnestra.   "It was clear but now it's all dark, somebody spilled ink on the words and she can't tell what's a letter and what's a stain.  The stories are true, but I'm true and she doesn't know which truth is right and which is hearsay!" 

                "Get out from under there you _gan_ _kaung_ _niu_!" Mrs. Kubat screeched, holding the heavy vase threateningly over the girl.  

                "I don't wanna die," River whimpered, pleaded.  "I don't want the stories anymore. If she's not Cassandra and you're not Klytemnestra will you let her go?"

                "_Zhu kou, zhu kou, zhu kou!" the woman yelled right as the shuttle door hissed open._

                "Now, now, now, Mrs. Kubat," Mal said scoldingly as he pulled out his gun.  "Let's try for a little decorum, shall we?" 

                The captain's words were like a switch that turned off insanity.  The woman cleared her throat and eased herself up almost gracefully. "Why, Captain," she said as she put down the crystal vase, which had fresh blood showing off its fine etchings.  "I didn't expect you."

                "I should say you didn't," Mal said.  It was eerie, watching the woman push the wisps of her hair behind her ears and smooth out the dress she'd obviously stolen from Inara, which was too big in the bust and too tight in the hips.  She looked very much like the aristocrat she was and behind her, River was cowering, trembling, and bleeding.  When Mal looked at Mrs. Kubat he saw a kind of madness that was more frightening than Reaver's because it had all the cool calculation of the Alliance.  

                "There's really no need for guns, Captain.  As you can see I'm quite harmless."

                "As I've seen you're anything but," Mal said.  "Step away from the girl."

                Mrs. Kubat glanced hatefully down at River for a second, before smiling back up at the Captain, "Do you mean Cassandra?"

                "Not Cassandra!" River screamed, reassuring the captain that his crazy little ward was just fine, or at least, just status quo.  

                "That's who I mean exactly," Mal said, glancing at the girl who was rocking back and forth as much as her somewhat cramped position allowed, chanting, "Not Cassandra, not Cassandra, not Cassandra."  

Mal took a deep breath and turned his gaze back to the psychopathic aristocrat, "Now I ain't in the mood fer parlor games. Step away from the girl and sit yerself on the bed here."

                "I'm not accustomed to being ordered about, Captain," Mrs. Kubat said, the commanding edge back in her voice.  

                "And I'm not accustomed to having my shuttles stolen and my crew assaulted," Mal said.  "So it's been an odd day for both of us.  Get on the bed or I'll have Jayne put you on the bed."

                "How dare you!" Mrs. Kubat gasped.  "I'm a lady.  I will go where I want when I want."

                "Jayne."

                "And," Mrs. Kubat said coldly.  "I have decided to do as you requested." She quickly stepped away from the console and sat primly on the bed, folding her hands on her lap and holding her head high, as if she had nothing to be ashamed of.

                "Fine," Mal said, uncocking his bullet-less gun and putting it back into the holster.  "Jayne, tie 'er up."

                "Captain Reynolds," Mrs. Kubat gasped as Jayne approached, clearly annoyed that there had been no shooting and no struggle.   "I protest!"  
                "Go ahead," Mal said, turning around and heading back to the door.  "Jayne, be sure ta gag her too."

                "With pleasure," The mercenary said, pulling a dirty handkerchief out of his back pocket, stuffing it into her mouth before she could throw out any more appeals or threats that Mal would have to ignore.

                "Doc, Wash, all's clear," Mal called out of the door.  "Come on up."

                Simon was the first to appear in the door, his face was anxious, and he clearly didn't expect to hear good news, "Is she. . . ?" 

                "A little worse for wear, but _Cassandra_ is fine, I think," Mal said, patting the boy on the shoulder reassuringly.  "Under the counsel."

                Relief washed over the doctor's face as he hurried to the cockpit,  "Get her outta there," Mal said.  "We need ta get off this rock as soon as possible, that means getting this shuttle back on _Serenity_ as soon as possible.  Wash can't fly if he's got a girl under his feet."

                "Well, I could," Wash said as he entered the shuttle.  "But I have a feeling Zoë'd object."

                "Yes, sir," Simon muttered as he very carefully lowered himself to his knees so he could look his sister in her eyes.  "Cassandra?"  He said softly, reaching out for her.  "It's all right, it's me, Phryxis."

                "I'm not Cassandra," River whimpered.  "Please don't, I don't want to be Cassandra."

                "You're not Cassandra," Simon said very softly, reaching out and touching her face, careful to avoid the large bruises on the left side of her jaw.  "You're River, you're my sister."

                "I thought," River said between her desperate, frightened gasps.  "I thought that if this was the book I could understand, I thought it would all make sense.  But the book, the book is only right some of the time."

                "Shhh," Simon soothed, reaching out with his other hand and pulling her out from under the console towards him.  "It's all right."

                "She just wants it to make sense, why doesn't anything ever make sense?"

                "It's ok," He said folding the girl in his arms as he scooted out of Wash's way.  "Everything's going to be ok.  You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

                River's ramblings faded into tears as she felt Simon's protective arm's around her and heard his soothing voice.  Cassandra never had this, but River always would.   The clarity that came from having everything written out, from having a guide to reality, was nothing compared to this, River thought.  Any amount of uncertainty, of confusion, of disjointedness in reality was worth it so long as she had Simon to wrap his arms around her and tell her it was all right.  He was really all she needed.

                "I'm not Cassandra," the girl said softly, once she'd cried herself nearly dry.

                "No," Simon said kindly, "You're not, thank God."

                "I'm River, I'm your sister."

                "Yes," he said kissing the top of her head softly.  "You are."

                River pushed herself away from him just a little so she could look him in the eyes, "You believe me?"

                He smiled at her, "To a fault."

                She nestled herself against his chest again and closed her eyes, "I'm River and Simon believes me." She muttered contentedly before slipping into an exhausted sleep.

*   *   *

                "She's lying," Inara laughed, shaking her head with a cool confidence.  "It's true that I did hit him on the head with a hot kettle, but that was in self defense.  I wouldn't, I couldn't, stab a man in cold blood."

                "Do you mind telling me why you couldn't?" The Alliance interrogator asked.

                "For starters, I just don't have the stomach for it," Inara said.  "If I really wanted to kill a man, I'd use a gun.  And, because I know you're going to check, I do have one.  But far more important to your investigation, I think, is the fact that I was locked in the Captains quarters, for my own protection, on the other side of the ship at the time of the crime."

                "Could you have gotten out of the quarters, gone down to the infirmary, stabbed Prefect Kubat, and then returned?"

                "I suppose," Inara sighed.  "But I don't think I would have stabbed my best friend." 

*

                "She came at me with her knife, like this!" Kaylee said excitedly, holding up her right hand in a stabbing position.  "An' I screamed and threw my arm's up and she tried to stab me, well, she did stab me, but she tried ta get me in the heart, and 'cause I had my hands up she cut my arm a bit and missed.  I can show ya the cut."

                "I'm sure that's unnecessary," the interrogator said.  "And you did nothing to provoke her."

                "Not a gorramn thing," Kayle said.  "Offered ta make her tea is all.  Course I was kinda dirty, so she might notta wanted me ta make her anything, ya know, but didn't do anythin' ta be stabbed over, that's for sure."

*

                "I can tell ya why she did it," Jayne grunted.  "'Cause she was nuts."

*

                "You never knew what would set her off," Wash said, a little exasperated.  "One day the boys would be running all over the ship, and that was fine, that was educational.  The next day, no the next minute, they were scolded for cavorting with the crew."

                "Do you have any idea why?

                Wash shrugged.  "She thought we'd be a bad influence.  What with the not trying to kill people, I guess . . ."

*

                "He was dead, I mean, clearly dead, when I got there," Simon said nervously.

                "Look me in the eye."

                "Sorry," the boy said, forcing himself to follow instructions.

                "Is there a reason I make you so nervous, Dr. Tamborino?"

                "No special reason," Simon lied. 

                "Why don't I believe you?"

                "I'm sure I have no idea," Simon said.

                "Are you really a doctor?"

                "Ah, well, they call me 'Doctor'."

                "But you are, in fact, just a medic."

                "Ye. . . yes."

                "And where did you learn your trade?"

                "I, ah, the war," Simon said quickly.  "I was a medic in the war.  That's how I met the Captain, and Zoë, actually.  In the war . . . you know."

                "I see," the man grumbled.  "Aren't you a little young, to have been in the war?"

                "Ahhh," Simon stuttered.  "I, ah, wasn't a registered medic, I mean, you're not going to find my name on any official documentation."

                "Independents," the interviewer grunted with clear distain, before regrouping his thoughts.  "So, you're telling me that any attempt to revive Prefect Kubat's life would have been . . ."

                "Useless," Simon said, with more confidence.  "He was really, very dead."  

*

                "Don't know that there's that much more to say," Zoë said.  "Didn't care to get to know her or her kids."

                "You spent nearly a week with them and you have no comments, no opinions?"

                "Well," Zoë said, searching.  "I guess I'd have to say that the parents were nuts but the kids were cute."       

*

                "I feel for the children, I really do, to have their father taken away from them by their mother nonetheless.  Will they be taken care of?"

                "I believe they have family here on New Dallas," The interviewer said.  "I'm sure they'll be fine."

                "Some have said they're better off, that their parents were bad."

                "Do you think that, Shepherd?"

                "I don't know, doubt I ever will," Book said.  "God is the only one who can judge whether a person is good or evil.  Still, it seems fairly clear that the children will be safer without their parents.  The whole thing's just so sad."

*

                "Yeah," Mal quipped sarcastically.  "Tears me up inside."

                "If any of your crew is found guilty of murder, they will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law."

                "You're saying they'll be executed."

                "Precisely, and you will be held as an accomplice."

                "Which means I'll be executed."

                "You're catching my drift.  Unless, of course, you want to tell me what really happened?"

                Mal considered this for a second.  Finally, he nodded and leaned in, "Fine, I'll tell you the whole truth, no secrets."

                "Good," the interviewer said.  "This will be much better for you."

                "Like we said, Kubat attacked Inara, so we lock her up in my quarters, right, and lock him up in the Infirmary and then I go to sleep in one a the passenger suites."

                "I've heard all this."

                "I get woke up in the middle of the night by my mechanic, Kaylee, who's got a knife stuck in her shoulder.  She says Mrs. Kubat shoved it in there for no reason."

                "Yes."

                "So Doc and I go downstairs to get what he needs to help Kaylee and that's when we see it."

                "Prefect Kubat's body?"

                "'Xactly," Mal said.  "In the infirmary, didn't touch a thing."

                "So you said."

                "Minute later I find out that Inara's shuttle is gone.  First thing I do is go check ta see if Inara's still locked up in my quarters.  She is.  We hunt down the shuttle and find it on Poseidon.  You got the docking slips right there."

                "So I do."

                "When we find the shuttle we find Mrs. Kubat, rantin' and ravin' bout some person named Cassandra who, so far as I kin tell, don't exist.  Point of interest, she was wearin' one a Nara's dresses and there was a bloody nightgown in the corner; I believe you got that,"

                "We do."

                "So, I told Jayne ta tie her up.  That's the whole story."

                "That's exactly what your crew told me."

                "I got me a truthful bunch," Mal smiled.

                "Mrs. Kubat denies it all."

                "Well, most likely I would, too, in her shoes."

                "But what you say does collaborate with much of the evidence."

                "The truth tends to do that."

                "So I don't seem to have much choice.  I'm releasing you and your crew.  You are fee to go."

                "Great," Mal said, "Glad to hear it.  But there is one thing I need to set straight before I leave."

                "What would that be?"

                "Where do I get paid?"  
*   *   *

                "All right," Mal yelled to be heard over the creaking of the hatch as it closed, his voice boomed off the walls of the cargo bay.  "Here's the plan.  We got a wave 'bout two days ago said there could be a job on Summerset, up near Golden River way, so Wash, you get us up in the sky.  Dirt on this rock feels all kinds of unwelcome."

                "Yes, sir, Captain," Wash said, jogging to the stairs and hurrying up to the cockpit.

                "Kaylee, the engine's gonna need ta be prepped for full burn."

                "Gonna need a little help," Kaylee said, nodding to her left arm in the sling.  

                "Shepherd, I believe you've shown some expertise in that area."

                "I'll see what I can do," Book said.

                "Shiny," Kaylee smiled, turning around and heading to the engine room via the common area. Book followed.

                "Doc," Mal continued.  "I think now might be a good time ta get your sister outta her hiding place.  Sure she'd be grateful."

                "Yes, sir," Simon said, veering off from what was left of the crew and heading towards the cargo bay panels that cleverly hid nooks and crannies perfect for smuggling.  

                "Simon, I'll help you," Inara offered, before turning to Mal, "Unless you have a chore for me."

                "Sorry," Mal smiled down at her.  "But no."

                "What should we do, sir?" Zoë asked, after Inara walked away.

                "Well, Jayne, I'd be much obliged if you'd go start cleanin' up the Infirmary."

                "Aw, Mal," Jayne groaned.  "Ain't that the Doc's job?"

                "No, doctorin's the doc's job, cleanin's everybody's job.  I didn't say ya had ta do it all, just see if ya can't get some of the blood off a the operating chair and such."

                "Fine, fine," Jayne muttered.  

                "Zoë, you mind sendin' a wave off to Trevor at Golden River, tellin' him we'll be arivin' in 'bout three days."

                "Of course sir," Zoë said, "And what are you going to do?"

                "Well," Mal said taking a deep breath.  "Spose I'll do what Cap'in's do the best."

                "Wonder around and make sure everyone's doing their job?"

                "Pretty much that, yeah."

                "And after that sir?"

                "Well, Zoë, we'll be on our way for a nice, calm, three day flight with no passangers, nothin' much to do or worry bout 'sept countin' our money.  I figure I'll take a nap.  Fact, I think I might order the whole crew to do the same.  What do you think?"

                "Brilliant plan, sir," Zoë said, smiling at him.  
                "Yes, well," Mal answered.  "That's why I'm the captain."

The End 

(of course, there will be an epilog . . .)


	12. Epilog or I love you

Book yawned as he headed up towards the kitchen.  It was still early morning, so much as time meant anything on a space ship, and the rest of the crew was fast asleep.  At the monastery he'd been harkened from his bed every day at dawn by carillon for the morning prayers.  His first few weeks it had seemed hard, nigh impossible, a burden.  But as Book's devotion and faith grew he found himself longing for the stillness of his morning prayers more and more.  The gratefulness he felt every morning to be alive, the hope that the new day held, the freshness of the world, still damp with dew, it was the best part of the day. The monastery may have been worlds away, but he was still grateful to be alive every time he woke up and each new day still held hope. And even if there was no dew in Serenity, and no true morning for that matter, he still enjoyed the quiet of the time before everyone else was awake.

                He was humming absentmindedly, more or less to the tune of "A World of Spirit's Bright," as he walked into the kitchen, where he usually made himself a cup of coffee and poured out prayers over all the ship.

                He moved, almost instinctively, to turn on the lights when a very soft voice said. "Don't."

                "River," the shepherd gasped, drawing his hands away from the light switch.  "You almost gave me a heart attack."

                "Your family has no history of heart disorders, It would be very unlikely for you to have a heart attack," River said dryly.  "Don't turn on the lights."  
                "Why not?" Book asked, stepping further into the room, away from the light switch and towards River, who was lying on the kitchen table illuminated by the light of the stars drifting past the skylight.

                "The light scares them away.  It's big and boorish and fake.  They're small. They can't fight it, so they just go away."  

                "I see," Book said as he stepped next to the table and looked up, "They are mighty pretty."

                Book pulled a chair out and sat in it, angling it so he could stare up at the stars drifting past. The room fell into silence for a while.

                "You're praying," River said after a moment.  

                "Yes, I am."

                "Why?"

                "Because, I like to keep in touch with God, and I'm pretty sure He likes to keep in touch with me."

                "What do you pray about?"

                "Oh, everything."

                "That's not specific."

                "Do you want an example?"

                "Do you pray for us?"

                "For the ship and her crew, yes."

                "So you pray for Simon."

                "Yes."

                "What do you pray for Simon?  Be specific."

                "River, what exactly are you asking?"

                The girl stared up at the stars for a few seconds more, examining them very critically, as if they could tell her how to answer her question.  Then, very gracefully, she pushed herself up, so she was sitting on the table, and turned around, leaning forward so that she and Book were eye to eye.  "Pray that he's happy," she said earnestly.  "Please."

                "Those really aren't the kind of prayers . . ." Book started.

                "You have to," River pleaded.  "If you pray than God will do what you ask, because you're a Shepherd.  God will make Simon happy."

                "That's not the way it works," Book said, a little mystified at River's sudden exuberance in matters of faith.  "Why is it so important to you that Simon be happy . . . wait, I know why it's important to you. I guess I'm asking, why do you think I need to pray over it?"

                "He's so sad," River said.  "He's too sad.  And he doesn't want me to see it, but I can.  It's in his eyes."

                "I know exactly what you're talking about," Book said compassionately.

                "They you have to pray and fix it," River insisted.  

                "River, you don't pray to fix things. You pray so that you can keep in touch with God, so that you can have a relationship with your creator."

                "If he created Simon than he can make Simon happy," River said pragmatically.  "It's only a matter of brain chemistry."

                "River, you're missing the point."

                The girl nodded and glanced away, she looked either furious or heartbroken: in the dim light the preacher couldn't be sure.

                "I'll not pretend to know your brother as well as you do," Book said very carefully.  "But Simon always struck me as the very sensitive sort.  He has a very large heart."

                River didn't react to this observation, so Book pushed forward.  "And while he definitely is sad, there is another, stronger emotion that I see in him.  And that's gratitude."

                "He's not happy," River muttered.

                "No, but he's grateful," Book insisted.  "Every time he looks at you he's overwhelmed with gratitude.  He's grateful that he was able to get you out, grateful that you're all right, grateful that he has the background to help you, grateful that he's found a safe place to help you in.  Most people, in his situation, would be bitter, would be angry, would curse God and man.  But your brother is better than that, he can see what gifts he's been given and he can be grateful for them."

                "But he's not happy," River insisted.

                Book sighed, "In the monastery we had a saying, 'Happiness only happens when your happenin's happen to happen the way you want your happenin's to happen.'  I'll admit that your brother doesn't have that.  What he has is much better.  Happiness comes and goes, the gratefulness, the joy that penetrates the sorrow, I see in your brother's eyes every time he looks at you, that will stay forever."

                "But he doesn't smile," River said.  "He should smile."

                "He smiles sometimes," Book offered.  "Kaylee makes him smile."

                River sucked in a sharp breath and glared in the general direction of the engine room.

                "Oh," the shepherd said softly.  "Hit a sore spot, did we?  Do you want to talk about it?"

                "No," the girl snapped.

                "River, I really think . . ."

                "I don't care, I don't care, I don't care," River said, her voice getting louder and shriller with every course. 

                "Shhh," Book scolded.  "You'll wake the others."

                "I just want to make him happy," River muttered. 

                "I see," Book said.  "_You want too make him happy."_

                The girl stared blankly at the floor for a moment before nodding.

                "Well," Book said.  "If you don't mind, I do have a few suggestions I could offer."

                River's head didn't move, but her eyes shifted from the floor to the preacher.  Book took that as leave to continue. 

                "As you noticed, Kaylee makes him smile, which ain't so surprising, Kaylee makes everyone smile."

                River kept eyeing the preacher cautiously.

                "I think it would mean a lot to Simon if you tried to make peace with her.  It's my understanding that you called her some pretty nasty things; I don't think an apology would go amiss."

                River shrugged vaguely and her eyes drifted back down to the floor.

                "'Course, I can't think of anything that would make you're brother happier than seeing you happy."

                "River happy?" The girl asked, as if the concept was foreign to her.

                "I know there are things in your head," Book said kindly as he reached out and gently turned her face so that she was looking in his eyes and could see that he really did care.  "Demons, nightmares, voices you don't want to hear.  I know that you're in pain.  But the moments when who you are, when the real River shines through all that, those are the moments that make Simon happy."

                "But I make him sad," the girl insisted. 

                "He loves you," Book insisted.  "That large heart I mentioned, it's full of love for you.  The reason he's sad isn't because he's not a rich doctor anymore, and it's not because he's living on this small, shabby ship, it's because you're in pain."

                "It's my fault Simon's sad," River said matter-of-factly.  "I know that."

                "No," Book sighed, "That's not what I meant.  I'm trying to tell you that your brother loves you, he loves you more than any empty happiness that comes with wealth or prestige or creature comforts.  He'll never be happy if he doesn't have you."

                "So what should I do?" the girl asked, there was a slight tremble of desperation in her voice.  

                "Sweetheart," Book said kindly.  "You should let your brother know you love him."

                "I don't . . . I don't know . . . don't know how . . ." River stuttered.  She was looking everywhere but at Book.

                "It's all right, sweetheart," Book soothed.  "It's just fine.  Your brother knows you love him.  I didn't mean to upset you.  I guess this morning I'm just not being a very effective comforter."

                River seemed oblivious to the last bit, she was taking deep breaths in and out and staring at her hands.  "Simon loves me," she said very softly, as she shoved her hands deep into the sleeves of her nightgown.  "And I love Simon."

                "I know that's true," Book said, trying to pretend that the girl's actions were not alarmingly bizarre. 

                River laughed, softly, almost nervously, before standing up and running across the table and jumping gracefully off.
    
                    "River," Book said, slightly worried by her sudden change.
    
                    "You can pray again," The girl called over her shoulder as she ran through the ship, presumably back down to the passengers quarters where her brother was sleeping soundly.  The shepherd wanted to chase after her, tell her to wait a few hours before she did . . . what ever her eclectic little mind chose to do.  But he decided that, maybe, River was the best judge of her business.  If she barged into her sleeping brother's room jumped on his bed, woke him up and proclaimed loudly, "I love you!" that would surely make Simon smile.  
    
    *   *   *
    
                    "I'm sorry," River said.
    
                    Kaylee turned her head, surprised that the younger girl would even venture to the engine room, not to mention apologize.  "What?"
    
                    "I'm sorry," River said again, her eyes dancing across the floor, her gaze not going anywhere near Kaylee.  "I called you a Fury and you're not.  You're not at all.  I was  . . . I mean, the books not real, none of us are who I said we were.  I was confused."
    
                    "I know, sweetie," Kaylee said, taking a step closer.  "S'all right."
    
                    "No," River said, shaking her head.  "Because I was mean." She glanced quickly at Kaylee.  "I made you sad, made Simon sad," her eyes returned to the ground.  "I'm sorry."
    
                    "S'ok," Kaylee said.  The mechanic had swallowed her pride and forgiven Simon for River's words a long time ago.  It never even occurred to her that the poor confused girl would apologize.  Kaylee had thought the prospect so impossible that she hadn't even bothered to hold a little grudge.  "Forgiven and forgotten."
    
                    River nodded and turned around, apparently finished.  Kaylee took a step forward and watched, amazed, as she walked down the hallway.  As if River knew she was being watched, she paused, right before turning to the steps.  "If the book had been true, you would have been Thalia," she said, before disappearing down the stairwell.
    
    *   *   *
    
                    "Thalia," Simon said.   "I'll have to look her up."
    
                    "I jus' wanna know if she's good," Kaylee said, falling into step behind the doctor as he walked through the common room towards his quarters.  
    
                    "Well, I think she would be," Simon said, over his shoulder, "Did River really apologize to you?"
    
                    "Yuh-hun," Kaylee said.  "I thought you'd put 'er up to it."
    
                    "No," Simon said as he opened the door to his room, stepping aside so Kaylee could enter first.  "Although, I think maybe I should have."
    
                    "Din' expect it," Kaylee said.  "But it was so sweet."
    
                    "All right," Simon said, pulling out his encyclopedia and inserting the tube for Arts and Literature.  "Search: Thalia."

                Kaylee walked over to Simon and peeked over his shoulder.  "Well?"
    
                    Simon scanned the entries, "I think this one's it," he said, pressing on one of the entries.  Immediately a picture popped up.  It was an oil painting in a very romantic style, with rich colors and the illusion of movement.  It was of a woman wrapped in cloth with the exception of one of her breasts.  There was a mask in her hand and her face was joyful, like she'd been caught in the middle of laughing.
    
                    "Simon," Kaylee scolded playfully, "What kinda 'cyclopedia is this?"
    
                    "Read," Simon said, glancing sideways at Kaylee with playful annoyance.  

                "One of the nine Greek Muses, Thalia, as portrayed here by Jean-Marc Nattier, was accredited with giving inspiration for joyful, playful, and idyllic poetry. Seen here with a comic mask, she is also portrayed with a crown of ivy and a crook. By Apollo, Thalia had the Corybantes, priests who castrated themselves in identification with the goddess, Cybele."

                "Well," Kaylee said after a moment, "'Sept fer that castratin' thing, Thalia sounds like a pretty good person ta be."

                "Yeah," Simon said softly, sinking onto his bed.  "River chose well."

                "Are you saying I inspire you, Doctor?" Kaylee asked, sitting down next to him.  

                Simon chuckled.  "I guess."

                "Really?" Kaylee asked, with a little wonder in her voice.  

                "I've, ah, been thinking about what River said, about you giving me pedestrian dreams."

                "Really," she said again.

                "And you do," Simon said glancing up into her eyes and quickly glancing away, very much like his sister had earlier.  "I mean, I don't . . ." he took a deep breath, brow knit as he tried to find the exact right words.  Kaylee waited eagerly.  "I imagine things," he finally said.  "Things I can't have.  A normal life, a family, a home.  And, ah, you're always part of those imaginings."  He looked up at her again, she was smiling sweetly down at him and, for some reason, he felt compelled to explain more.

                "Like I said, these are things I can't have, things I know I can't have," he said quickly, looking at her with an almost stern expression.  "I don't want you to think that . . . that I think that these kinds of things . . . well, I  . . . I don't want any . . . misunderstandings."

                Kaylee sighed and shook her head, "Too late fer that, Doc."

                The boy looked almost frightened, "What do you mean?"

                "Yer life may not be what you think is normal," Kaylee said frankly.  "But you got a family an' ya got a home here, on _Serenity_."

                Simon's expression melted into a smile, "Thank you."

                "Now gimmie that," Kaylee said, hiding her blush by grabbing the encyclopedia out of Simons hands.  "I wanna look something up, wha'da I do, just say search an' then . . ."

                "You push that button," Simon said, scooting a little closer to her on the bed.  "And yes, just say search and whatever it is you're looking for.  What are you looking for, by the way?"

                Kaylee cleared her throat before pushing the button Simon had shown her, "Search," she said very clearly.  "Twelfth Night."

                Kaylee was surprised by how few results popped up.  "That's it?"

                "Well, Twelfth Night is one of Shakespeare's most famous plays," Simon said.  "There's not really much confusion about what you might be looking for.  That is what you're looking for, isn't' it?"

                "So, you know about the play?" Kaylee asked, ignoring the encyclopedia in her hand.

                "Yeah," Simon said, "Why?"

                "Y'ever read it?"

                "When I was younger," Simon continued.  "I ask again, why?"

                "'Cause I been tryin' ta read it," Kaylee said, pulling a small, blue, hardbound book out of the pocket of her coveralls.  "The words are prettier 'en anything I've ever tried ta read," She said, laughing a little nervously.  "But, no matter how much I read 'em, they don't make no kinda sense."

                "Where did you get this?" Simon asked, taking the book from her and carefully flipping through its pages.  It was an older volume, printed in English, and someone had written notes in Chinese in the margins.    It reminded Simon very much of something from his old life, something he would just find, lying around the house, something familiar, casual yet formal and comforting in its simple richness.

                "That book store back on Greenleaf," Kaylee said.  She was having a hard time telling what Simon was thinking, if he liked it or not.  He was so consumed in flipping through the book that he didn't even glance in her direction to offer a clue.  "Manager said it was a good story, bout a brother an' sister findin' each other after they'd been separated.  And, ah, he said it was a good romance too, actually, said it was a couple a good romances.  And most important, there's a happy ending."

                "This is an amazing play, Kaylee," Simon said, closing the covers and handing it back to mechanic.  "Funny, romantic, suspenseful. You'll love it."

                The mechanic laughed, "I could never read a book like that."

                "But why did you . . .?"

                "'S for you Simon," Kaylee said.  "Happy Birthday."

                "My birthday was a month ago."

                "Yeah, but I didn't get a chance ta get ya anything 'for then."

                "You baked me a cake."

                "You didn' get any a it."

                "That's because the ship broke. That wasn't your fault."

                "I bought you a present, Simon," Kaylee said, a little exasperated.  "Can't ya say thank you?"

                "I'm, I'm sorry," Simon stuttered.  "Yes, thank you."  He looked down at the book again, his fingers ran over the warn blue binding that still held the imprints of its gilded title even though the gold lettering had worn off long ago.  "Thank you."

                "Well, yer welcome," Kaylee said primly, before scooting even closer to the doctor, so that their shoulders were touching, "Now, kin ya 'splain ta me what some a them pretty word say?"

                "All right," Simon said, opening the book and flipping through it critically.

                "What you looking for?"

                "The right passage," Simon said.

                "Which passage would that be?" Kaylee said, looking at the text, barely comprehending a phrase here or there as Simon skimmed effortlessly over the text.

                "Ah," Simon said slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "I think this one's good."

                "Go on," Kaylee said eagerly.

                Simon cleared his through and straightened his back, 

_"O mistress mine, where are you roaming?_

_ O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,_

_   That can sing both high and low:_

_ Trip no further, pretty sweeting;_

_ Journeys end in lovers meeting,_

_   Every wise man's son doth know."_

                "So," Simon said, closing the book and glancing over to Kaylee, who was smiling about as unabashedly as he'd ever seen her smile.  "What part of that didn't make sense?"
    
                    "Oh, that bit I understood just fine."
    
    *   *   *
    
                    It was late, after dinner, and the crew of _Serenity had wondered off to their prospective corners of the ship, settling into the night calmly and quietly.  Inara and Kaylee had retreated to the companion's shuttle, chatting, giggling, doing what normal girls did.  River gave the shuttle a large breath.  Jayne was working out in the cargo bay, lifting weights.  She avoided him as well.  The Captain, Zoë, Wash and Book were in the kitchen playing some card game River didn't know the rules to.  It seemed simple enough though, one was given two cards and they would continue to take cards until the total equaled 21.  Because this rarely happened, the person who got closest to this total, without going over, appeared to be the winner.  _
    
    River watched for a few moments, but quickly realized that she would never be able to join such a game.  There was an obvious component to it that she was missing.  River knew that she could do the probability equations necessary to win much faster than anyone else playing the game, in fact they seemed to be ignoring those equations all together, but they were laughing, or tense or excited.  She didn't know what was creating those feelings and, as much as she wanted to ask, she didn't want to sound stupid, sound daft.  So she ventured down the stairs, away from the chuckling of the game, into the relative quiet of the common room, where Simon sat alone, lost in his little blue book.
    
                    River hesitated at the foot of the stairs.  All day what Shepherd Book had told her drifted in and out of her mind. She could make Simon happy if she could be his little sister, if she could breathe deep and swallow the pain, if she could keep straight for a little while which voices were hers and which weren't.  That seemed to make scene, until she tried to do it, then it seemed to be impossible.
    
                    "River," Simon said, shocking her out of her brooding.  There was the hint of pleasant surprise in his voice.  "I didn't hear you come down."
    
                    The girl nodded.
    
                    "Are you all right?" the doctor asked, closing his book and leaning forward, as if he was going to get up off of the couch.  "You were very reclusive today."
    
                    "I didn't know what to say," the girl admitted quietly from her spot.
    
                    "To me?" Simon asked, a little confused.
    
                    She nodded.
    
                    "River, I don't care what you say," he said, pushing himself up and walking over towards her.  "You can tell me anything."
    
                    The words 'I love you' floated to the top of the girl's consciousness.  She opened her mouth, tried to force them out, but they seemed to get caught in her throat.  
    
                    "River, are you all right?" Simon said, reaching out for her.  "You look . . ."
    
                    "Stop," the girl said, holding her hands in front of her, freezing him in his tracks.  "You do too much and it should be her turn.  That's fair."
    
                    "What are you talking about?" Simon said, clearly confused.
    
                    River took a couple of very measured breaths. Her fingers were moving as if she was playing the piano.  
    
                    "River," Simon said, taking another step forward, reaching towards her.  "If something is wrong I'd like to help."
    
                    The girl looked up, "You used to be Cinnamon," she said cautiously, like a student unsure of the answer she was giving her teacher.
    
                    Simon's worry melted away into a soft smile, "You remember that."
    
                    "We made cookies, and I thought your name was Cinnamon.  Proper nouns confused me."
    
                    "You were two, at most," Simon said with wonder.  "I can't believe you remember that."
    
                    "I was afraid to roller-skate.  I was afraid I would fall."
    
                    "Yeah," Simon said. "You were five.  You drew these diagrams of how you're ankles would be broken," he laughed.  "You labeled the muscles."
    
                    "You wouldn't slow down to talk to me unless I had my skates on."
    
                    "Yeah, one day I did that."
    
                    "Then you wouldn't slow down to talk unless I was skating with you?"
    
                    "In two day's time you were skating better than I was."
    
                    River looked up, at him, smiling.  "You've always been a clutz."

                Simon nodded, he didn't even notice the insult.  "You got all the grace in the family."
    
                    "And all the brains,"
    
                    "And all the pretty."
    
                    "You're happy?"
    
                    "About not being graceful, smart or pretty?" Simon asked.
    
                    "I want you to be happy," She said, a little of her mirth slipping into worry.
    
                    "When you smile, I'm happy," he said, reaching out and pushing some of her unruly hair away from her face.  "I love your smile."
    
    "I love you, Simon," she said softly, looking him in the eyes.
    
                    He smiled back down at her with a smile so warm and sincere that, for a second, it seemed like all the dark voices and evil phantoms that haunted her mind were scared away.  For a second, she basked in Simon's warmth.  "I love you, too." 
    
                    She leaned forward, falling into him, and felt his arms wrap around her, "I really, really love you," she said with a little more confidence.  "I'm certain, I really, really love you."

THE VERY END

Dear readers,
    
    I know I promised you Chinese translations.  I lied.  I'm too lazy to go back and figure it all out.  Sorry
    
    On an entirely unrelated note, I am going to post another painfully long and complicated story soon.
    
    Harri


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